


An Open Book

by airam06



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Attempted Rape, BDSM, Child Abuse, Cutting, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Murder (no major character death), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Prostitution, Self-Harm, attempted noncon, dark themes, dom!Dean, dubcon, mature material, sub!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airam06/pseuds/airam06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is wallowing in guilt and pain from an event that happened when he was a teenager. He's become a professional at ignoring his problems, masking them with deflection and a tough exterior that not even his brother can break. All of that changes when Gabriel drags Castiel to a BDSM club on his birthday...and not in the way most people would expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: the first chapter includes a scene that is dubcon at best, attempted rape at worst. This fic deals with the BDSM lifestyle, and very dark and serious matters. Do NOT enter into the BDSM lifestyle without doing your research. Remember, the motto with BDSM is safe, sane, and consensual. 
> 
> This fic has dark undertones, mentions of past abuse, neglect, rape, and other trauma. DO NOT read if these things trigger you. I personally recommend this fic to be read by people 18+ because of the subject matter I intend to cover.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, the characters, or anything about them (if I did, I wouldn't be a broke actress). I also do not condone the activities in this story, nor do I support dubcon/noncon events in real life. This is a work of fiction, and should be treated as such.

Cas was going to kill his brother. He thought about the endless ways he could do it while staring blankly into his beer at the bar. Perhaps he’d choke the man with the licorice candies he so enjoyed. He glared at Gabriel, who was taking in the action of the club around them with glee.

He had been comfortable at home that evening when Gabriel had shown up at his door and whirled into the room like the hurricane he was. He had declared in no uncertain terms that Cas would not be spending his twenty seventh birthday at home, and taken Cas to his room to get him dressed for a night on the town.

After a flurry of activity in his closet (during which time Gabriel tried unsuccessfully to convince Castiel to wear the horrendous pleather and rhinestone jacket he had given him as the worst possible Christmas present five years earlier), Cas emerged in faded jeans and a plain black t-shirt.

“Dang, kid,” Gabriel had wolf whistled. “You clean up good.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Castiel had said indignantly, and then Gabriel had dragged him out the door to the club they were in now.

Gabriel wasn’t exactly the subtle type, and considering his rather unnatural habit of trying to get his baby brother laid, he had brought him to a club aptly named _Sin_. Bright pink and purple neon lights surrounded the flashing name of the sign, and people in various combinations of leather and chains stood at the door. 

Castiel wasn’t naïve; he knew a kink club when he saw one, and this certainly qualified as one. Bouncers at the door gave patrons red, blue, or yellow armbands, and Gabriel seemed to know exactly what those stood for. The bouncers seemed to know Gabriel as well, as he was allowed entrance to the building as soon as he and Cas had walked up to the bouncer. He took two blue bracelets and slipped one onto Cas’ wrist with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

The interior of _Sin_ was more subdued than the colors outside. Metal cages were suspended from the ceiling, with gorgeous dancers clad in skintight leather writhing about, and the lighting was dimmer, coming mainly from bright red and purple lights hanging from the ceiling amidst the cages. People stood around chatting and dancing, and Cas noted that occasionally people with different colored armbands from one another would disappear off through one of the many doors that lined a back wall.

Gabriel slapped Cas on the back.

“Who pissed in your Guinness?” he asked, nudging him. “C’mon, bro, it’s your birthday! Enjoy it!”

Cas sighed a bit, used to the vast difference between his and his brother’s personalities.

“That’s what I was doing when you showed up. I had my tea, my novel, and a calm evening ahead of me.”

Gabriel snorted.

“Living life on the edge, as always. Look, it’s high time you came out of that shell and had your own life. I can’t imagine having to live in our parents’ old house,” Gabriel gave a visible shudder. “It was like a mausoleum in there when we were kids.”

“I like my solitude.”

“You like isolating yourself from everyone. The guilt trip you’ve been on for years has to end, Cassie. What happened to Michael-”

“I don’t want to talk about that tonight,” Cas interjected, and it was Gabriel’s turn to sigh.

“Yeah, yeah. All I’m saying is you need to put yourself out there. Live your life, have meaningless and kinky sex with-with people like that _goddess_ in leather over there…I’ll be back in a bit, baby bro.”

With that, Gabriel stood and walked straight toward a dark haired woman dressed in head to toe leather, a riding crop hanging loosely from her hand. She looked like she could eat Gabriel alive, and judging by her smirk when he sat down next to her, she fully intended to.

Cas downed the last of his beer and looked around for a restroom; he needed a respite from the thundering music and loud voices. He furrowed his brow, unable to find a sign, and finally decided the restrooms must be up past the pool tables where the myriad of doors were located. He rose from his chair and made his way in that direction. As he reached the closest pool table, a man’s laughter caught his attention, and Cas nearly felt the bottom fall out of his stomach when he turned his head to look.

A gorgeous young blonde man was bent across the pool table, looking drunk as a college frat boy, while two younger men quietly high-fived behind him. The blonde man stuck out the tip of his tongue and narrowed his eyes to line up his shot, then missed the ball completely.

He cursed, slurring his words, and the other two grinned at each other.

“How about we up the ante?” one asked. “A hundred bucks for the winner. We’ll even let you go again.”

“Yeah, sounds fair,” the blonde said, waving his hand carelessly, nearly tipping over a drink. “I got this!”

He bent back over the table, and this time his movements were careful, his eyes concentrated. Cas knew this trick. With all the time he and Michael had spent at bars as teenagers, his brother had picked up on the art of hustling pool, and Cas knew a natural when he saw one.

The young man looked up and saw Cas watching, then winked. He sank one, two, three shots in a row, with the two men behind him looking more and more crestfallen each time. In record time, he had won, and the two other men ponied up the cash, lesson learned. The blonde man pocketed the money and raised his glass to Cas, and Cas threw him a swift grin, then headed off for what he hoped was the bathrooms.

Cas opened the first door, and was surprised to find a group of people utterly naked and clearly having the time of their lives. He uttered a quick and unheard apology, then swiftly closed the door, now hesitating to try the others.

“You lost, little lamb?” a nasally voice asked beside him, and Cas jumped.

“Oh, just looking for the restroom,” Cas replied. “Do you know where it is?”

This man gave off an aura that made Cas’ senses scream for him to run. He was tall and thin, with humorless grey eyes that sunk far back into his face, giving him a skeleton-like appearance. He towered over Cas, leering at him in a way that made Cas feel like prey.

“We could try a few doors,” he suggested. “See if we find something we like.”

“I’m not interested, thanks,” Cas lifted his head and leveled the man with a stare; to his surprise, he didn’t back down, but rather dropped his eyes to the blue band around Cas’ wrist, then looked back up to his eyes.

“Is that how we’re playing this?” he questioned. “Fine by me, Lamb.”

With that, he grabbed Cas around the middle with one arm, opened the door behind them with his free hand, and shoved him through. Cas fell onto the ground, taking seconds to look at his surroundings: a room empty except for a table of sterile medical tools and a platform with restraints. The only exit was behind the lanky man, now staring down at Cas with a sneer.

“Now, my pet…are you ready to play?”

Cas stood warily, making eye contact.

“I’m not your _pet_ ,” he spat. “Move out of my way.”

“I haven’t finished with you yet, though,” he spoke calmly, but the sound sent tremors through Cas’ body; he hadn’t had to fight in a very, very long time. “I’ll let you know when you have permission to go.”

With that, he grasped Cas by the neck and pushed him back to the platform, trying to force him down onto it. At that moment, the door to the room burst open, and the blonde man from the pool game came tearing in.

“Alistair!” he roared, and the thin man turned his head to look at their intruder.

Cas didn’t hesitate. He balled his fist up and swung, connecting with Alistair in the nose with an almighty crunch, and causing the man to back off and wail in agony, clutching it. Cas quickly moved to stand beside the blonde man, who was staring at him in shock.

“Dude,” he said, stunned. “Nice right hook!”

“What the _fuck_ was that for?” Alistair shouted, taking off his jacket to hold against his bloody nose.

“I saw him say no, Alistair,” the blonde man said. “I saw you force him back in here, too.”

“It was a damn scene!” Alistair yelled. “You do realize this is a sex club, don’t you, Winchester?”

The blonde man turned to Cas.

“Was it a scene? What’s your safeword?”

“My what?” Cas asked, bewildered, and the man turned furiously back toward Alistair.

“You didn’t ask his safeword? Congratulations, moron, you just about became a rapist,” the man put his hand on Cas’ shoulder. “You want me to call the police?”

Cas took in the sight of Alistair in front of him, his front covered in blood and his eye already beginning to blacken.

“No,” he said. “I think I handled it.”

The blonde man grinned widely at that.

“Hell yeah, you did. Let’s head back to the bar, and I’ll buy you a beer. I’d say you could use one.”

They left Alistair behind without a passing glance, still dabbing gingerly at his nose with his ruined jacket, and grabbed a couple of seats. The man flagged down a bartender and ordered himself and Cas two beers before inclining his head to Cas.

“You sure you’re alright? Alistair is bad enough without a room full of torture equipment.”

“I’ve had worse, believe me,” Cas replied.

“Shit, I don’t doubt it, given the skill of that punch. That jackass is going to be black and blue for a week,” he grinned and stuck his hand out. “Dean Winchester.”

Cas took his hand and shook it, feeling soft and warm skin moving against his.

“Castiel Novak,” he pulled his hand back to grab the beer the bartender sat down in front of him.

“Well, Castiel, looks like I didn’t need to come running to save the day, huh? You had that one handled.”

Cas shrugged, a smile on his face.

“As I said, I’ve been in much worse situations than that. There was the strip club in Illinois back in 2003, for example. A biker gang, a former Marine, and one very confused nun.”

Of course, there was the time a few years after that, when he hadn’t been fast enough, or clever enough…Dean barked out a surprised laugh, though, and it brought Cas back to the present.

“What the hell are you, some kind of CIA operative?” Dean chuckled and took a swig of beer.

“I’m an adjunct professor for Baltimore University,” Cas answered with a grin.

“Seriously? You’re a professor and you end up punching a dude in the face? Where were you when I was in school?” Dean winked at Cas, who felt his ears warming and swiftly looked away.

“I’m just an adjunct professor. I teach English online. All of the work, half of the pay,” Cas admitted. “It wasn’t my first choice, but it pays.”

“Yeah? What was your first choice?” Dean asked, and Cas’ face fell. “Uh, it’s okay. That’s really personal, sorry.”

“No, Dean, it’s alright. It’s just not something that comes up often. How about you? What do you do?” Cas quickly diverted.

“I’m the librarian for the public library,” Dean’s eyes shone with happiness. “Not exactly my first choice either, but maybe we end up where we’re supposed to be no matter what we do. It’s what my brother would say, anyway.”

“Gabriel,” Cas said with sudden awareness, and he turned to quickly scan the room.

“You looking for that guy you came in with?” Dean asked. “I think he left with Kali. We don’t get a lot of swingers in here, but hey, if it makes you and him happy…”

Cas spun back to look at Dean in horror.

“He’s my _brother_ ,” he curled his nose. “My idiotic, meddling big brother.”

“Oh,” Dean said, clearly surprised. “Well, sorry, but I think Kali led him out of here on a leash. And I mean that literally.”

Cas groaned and checked his phone. Sure enough, he had a quick text from his brother, advising him to get a taxi and use protection.

Dean laughed when Cas told him the contents of the text.

“You’re stuck here? Damn, you’ve had a rough night,” he played with the corner of his bar napkin. “It’s about time for me to be heading out anyway. I can give you a ride home.”

Cas weighed his options. Grab a taxi and spend money he didn’t really have to get back to his place, or ride with a nearly complete stranger who had seen him break another man’s nose not even a half hour earlier. He looked up and was met with Dean’s warm, expecting eyes. Well, he thought to himself, if he turned out to be a dick, he’d just break his nose too.

“If it’s not too far out of your way. I live over on Derby,” Cas said, and Dean’s eyes widened.

“Derby? I’m about five minutes away from there, back behind Singer’s old place. I’ll give you a ride.”

The pair paid their tabs, then made their way toward the exit, where they deposited their wristbands. Cas’ blue one went into one jar, while Dean tossed his red one into a much smaller pile.

“I’m parked around the corner here,” Dean said conversationally, and led the way to a large black car.

“It’s beautiful,” Cas remarked, taking in the classic car’s shining black exterior. “I know absolutely nothing about cars, but this one is gorgeous.”

Dean beamed with pride.

“Thanks! I rebuilt her myself.”

He opened Cas’ door and then walked over to climb in his own side. Dean started up the car with a purr of the engine, and they set off.

“That must have been quite a bit of work,” Cas remarked.

“It was,” Dean agreed. “But worth it. This car was like my home when I was a kid. I wanted it to look like I remembered it.”

“You spent a lot of time in it,” Cas prompted, and Dean nodded.

“It was just me, my brother, and our dad. He worked construction and had to travel around a lot, so he took us with him. I can’t tell you how many times I passed out in the back seat with Sammy, back when we could both fit.”

“Sam is your brother?”

“Yeah, my kid brother,” Dean agreed with a smile. “He’s studying to become an architect out west. What about your brother? He seemed kind of…”

“Like a douchebag,” Cas supplied, and Dean laughed. “He gets that often, don’t worry.”

“So was he with you during the nun incident?” Dean grinned, and Cas sobered, shaking his head.

“No…no, that was my other brother, Michael. And don’t try to act innocent, I saw you hustle those poor kids out of a hundred dollars tonight.”

If Dean was thrown by the topic change, he didn’t show it.

“Hell, they needed to learn their lesson. Besides, they weren’t kids. They’re nearly the same age as me.”

“Which is?” Cas asked.

“Twenty six,” Dean replied, looking at Cas. “You can’t be much older than me, dude. I actually thought I was older than you.”

“I’m twenty seven, as of…” Cas checked his watch. “Exactly twenty nine minutes ago, at half past ten.”

“It’s your birthday?” Dean asked, looking sympathetic. “I hope they’re usually better than this.”

Cas made a noncommittal movement with his head.

“Yes and no. I generally spend them alone at home.”

“Speaking of, which house is yours?” Dean asked, turning onto Derby Lane.

“Third one on the left. There’s a large plastic snowman on the roof.”

“It’s September. Tell me you’re not one of those early Christmas decorators.”

“No,” Cas agreed. “But it’s hideous and hard to remove, and more importantly, it pisses off my neighbors.”

Dean laughed and pulled into Cas’ driveway a moment later.

“Hey, Cas?” he asked, and Cas released his grip on the handle he was ready to open to turn his attention back to Dean. “I liked hanging out with you tonight. Can I get your number?”

Something warm dropped into Cas’ stomach, and he nodded in slight disbelief.

“Y-yes, of course you can.”

He rattled off his number while Dean programmed it into his phone, then opened his door, leaning back in to the open window to speak.

“Thank you for the ride,” Cas smiled.

“Anytime,” Dean grinned, then glanced up through his windshield. “You were right, that’s the ugliest snowman I’ve ever seen. No wonder your neighbors hate it.”

“Oh, that’s not why they hate it. It’s motion activated.”

With that, Cas stepped more toward his front door and jumped up and down, flapping his arms. All at once, the snowman whirred to life, lifting his head and hat off together and yelling out “Merry Christmas!” in an echoing voice.

Cas ducked his head back down toward the passenger side of the car again. 

“I wanted to reprogram it to play death metal, but I figured he’s already decapitating himself, it doesn’t get much more metal than that.”

“Dammit, Novak!” a surly voice shouted from a window next door. “One day I’m going to shoot that bastard! You’ll come home and Frosty will be sent to Hell where he belongs!”

Cas winked.

“Told you.”

He said goodbye to Dean, who was bent over his steering wheel laughing, and saluted Rufus Turner next door before opening up his front door. When he looked back, Dean was pulling out of his driveway, waving, and a cheerful lightness spread throughout Cas’ body. He waved back and stepped into his childhood home, happy to have enjoyed his birthday for the first time in years.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas dragged himself out of bed the following morning with a groan, knowing he needed to record his lecture on the week’s readings and get it posted so the students could begin their work. He considered his class to be easy; watch his lectures, do the assigned reading, and turn in an essay about their personal reaction to it. Cas would have loved something that simple back when he was an undergraduate.

He flipped the light on in his bedroom and dug in his drawers for some underwear to throw on. Just like the rest of the house, it was meticulously clean and sparsely decorated, the only difference being a brightly colored quilt tossed on Cas’ bed. In fact, the entire house had a sterile feel to it, decorated mainly in jarring white and gray, with silver appliances and heavy wooden furniture. Cas thought it reflected his parents quite well. Cold and dull.

Cas padded down the hallway toward the bathroom, keeping his eyes resolutely ahead when he passed the closed wooden door on the right, a faded sign hanging from it. He swallowed a lump in his throat at the thought of it: a hefty piece of bright blue cardstock that he had spent an hour over, meticulously writing Michael’s name in calligraphy, then decorating with stickers and drawings of their favorite cartoon characters, then hung from a piece of white yarn he’d found in their mother’s sewing box.

He slammed the bathroom door behind himself harder than he meant to, and the sound drew him back down to earth. Cas turned on the outdated shower and made the water as hot as he could stand it, looking for a distraction. He soaped up, but winced when he passed over his hip. Glancing down, he saw a large purple bruise blossoming on his hip and upper thigh where Alistair had caused him to fall. Gingerly, he brushed a finger over it, hissing at the sensitivity.

Last night had been harrowing. Cas hadn’t had a reason to fight anyone since…well, he didn’t want to think about that. He pressed a finger into the bruise to draw his thoughts there instead, gasping. He knew enough about the kink community to know that Alistair honestly thought of their encounter as a sort of consensual non-consent. He should’ve asked Cas for his explicit consent, and asked for a safeword, but even then, Cas didn’t think he would have gone through with it.

There had just been something about that man that made Cas’ hair stand on end. Cas curled his nose at the thought of Alistair’s body so close to his. He’d rather think of the memory of Dean bursting in through the door to play the hero, and suddenly his mind went a completely different direction.

He thought about how it would have been had the roles been different. What if it had been Dean instead pinning him to the table, using his strength to hold Cas in place where he wanted him? Cas groaned and closed his eyes. That would have been much better. Dean, pressing his body against Cas’ and speaking into his ear in that deep voice, telling him all the things he planned to do to him. Cas ran his hand along the length of his rapidly growing erection and then wrapped the hand around himself, stroking slowly.

Dean could have shackled him to that table and taken him apart piece by piece until he was practically begging for it and Cas would have loved every moment. Cas sped up his hand as he imagined Dean grinding roughly against him, telling him all the ways he was going to use him, maybe even running his mouth down to his neck to _bite_ -

Cas came with a shout, one hand flinging out to the wall to support himself while the other stroked through his orgasm. He calmed down slowly, breathing heavily, then rinsed off and climbed out of the shower, drying off and throwing his clothes on then heading down the stairs to his computer.

He grabbed a cup of coffee then settled down to record his weekly lecture. Once the camera was on and his notecards were in front of him, he clicked record.

“Good morning, kids,” he grinned. “Or evening, whatever time you’re actually getting around to doing your work. Screw it, as long as it’s done, I don’t care if you’re doing this at four a.m. while sacrificing Barbie dolls to Cthulhu. So, we finish up The Catcher in the Rye this week! As always, I look forward to hearing about your reactions.”

Cas winked at the camera. He honestly did love to read their reactions, from Charlie’s queer subtext readings to Kevin’s long-winded essays picking apart every action the characters did, each student had their own personal reaction, which was one of the reasons he enjoyed teaching this course as much as he did.

He talked for a bit more, going over basic plotlines without giving too much information for those who had undoubtedly waited until last minute to read, and covering what he expected in this week’s essay.

“I expect you to treat this essay well. It’s the last one for this book, and I want your honest opinion on everything. Don’t sugarcoat it. Literature isn’t literature if it doesn’t make you feel something. If you think Caulfield is a saint, tell me. If you think he’s a whiny, spoiled shit, tell me that too. Just make sure you tell me why. Personally, I think he’s an overdramatic brat, but don’t go with my opinion. Extra points if you can change my mind.”

Cas took a sip of his cooled coffee and checked his notecards one last time.

“That’s all for this week. Essays are due by midnight Sunday at the latest. Submit them online through the forum, just like always. Any questions, email me. See you next week.”

Cas stopped the recording and had the video edited and published to their online course site within twenty minutes. He had just sat down in the kitchen to have a bowl of cereal when his cell phone rang with and unknown number on the screen. He groaned.

“It’s nine a.m. on a Sunday. Whatever you’re selling, you can shove it up your-”

“You’re not a morning person, are you?” Dean’s voice sounded happy over the phone, and Cas let out a surprised chuckle.

“I’m certainly not,” Cas replied. “What are you doing up this early?”

“Sam called this morning, and once I wake up, I’m good for the day,” Dean said dismissively.

“Didn’t you say he’s in college out west? It’s about five a.m. there. Oh no, is your brother some kind of ‘up at dawn’ hippie?”

Dean laughed loudly.

“He’s got the hair for it, but no, he just wanted to talk. He gets lonely out there sometimes, you know?”

Cas paused.

“Yes, I understand that,” he cleared his throat. “And so you decided to call a near-complete stranger and talk because you’re bored?”

“Well, I wanted to catch you early in case you went to church. I figured since your parents named you and your brother after angels, you were probably religious,” Dean answered.

“How did you figure that out?” Cas asked.

“Librarian, Cas. I know a little bit about a lot of things. Just enough to make me obnoxious as hell at trivia.”

“Clever, but no, I’m not religious,” Cas resisted the urge to add “not anymore” to the end of his statement. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

“I, uh, know your birthday kind of sucked last night, and I’m free this afternoon. What do you say I take you out to celebrate? I mean, it may not be kink clubs and punching horny old men, but I can still promise you’ll enjoy it.”

Cas huffed out a laugh. Dean was easy to talk to and fun to be around, and for once Cas didn’t feel the urge to beg off and stay locked inside.

“I’m holding you to it. Do you want me to meet you at your place?”

“No,” Dean said sharply, then his voice softened. “No, man, I already know where you live. I can be there around one?”

“Perfect,” Cas agreed. “I’ll see you then.”

Cas hung up the phone and puttered around the kitchen, finishing his cereal then washing the bowl. It wasn’t until he was back in his room and debating over what to wear that he realized he was actually looking forward to this.

*

True to his word, Dean showed up in Cas’ driveway at 1 p.m. on the dot, looking like some version of a model in a green Hensley and dark wash jeans. Cas glanced down at himself with a critical glance. He’d found his favorite pair of jeans easily enough, but had changed shirts at least five times before deciding on a sensible black V-neck sweater. Cas swung open the door to let Dean in while he grabbed the last few things he needed, and Dean looked around the living room.

“I didn’t bring flowers or chocolates,” Dean admitted, looking sheepish. 

“Shameful,” Cas feigned disappointment. “But I suppose I’ll let it go. You did try to protect my honor at the club last night.”

Dean laughed.

“Your snowman was quiet when I pulled up,” he commented while Cas threw on his shoes.

“The motion sensor only works at night. One of the many redeeming qualities,” he grinned and patted down his pockets. “I left my wallet upstairs, I’ll be right back.”

Cas jogged up the stairs and grabbed his wallet off the bedside table. When he came back into the living room, he noticed Dean looking at the portraits on the mantle. 

“Nice bowl cut,” he chuckled. “These your folks?”

“Yes,” Cas answered. “Doctors Naomi and Charles Novak. This was their house.”

“They seem…nice.”

“You don’t need to maintain formalities with me, Dean.”

“I didn’t want to come off as a rude asshole in the first ten minutes of our date,” Dean reasoned, then winked. “I usually save that for at least three dates in. That must be Gabriel.”

Dean pointed to the thin, short boy in the photo behind Cas who, even as a child of only ten, seemed to have his eyes lit up in mischief. Dean’s eyes narrowed in thought and he pointed to a third boy in the frame.

“Is that your other brother?” he asked conversationally, and a lump sprang at once to Cas’ throat.

“Yes,” he said, voice remarkably strong. “Are you ready?”

Dean only looked blindsided for a moment before stepping back and nodding.

“Yeah. You might want to grab a jacket though, it’s going to be freezing tonight. Mine’s in the car.”

Cas locked the door behind him and pocketed the keys, then he and Dean headed down to climb into the car.

“Where are we going?” Cas asked, and Dean’s eyes glinted with mischief. 

“How do you feel about heights and speed?”

*

The car ride was enjoyable, and Cas found he was already quite comfortable in Dean’s presence. They talked about work mostly, with Cas telling Dean all about the different students enrolled in his class, the uncertainties of being an adjunct professor compared to a permanent one, and even how Bela Talbot had attempted to defend the actions of villains in an essay he’d assigned at the beginning of the year. Dean joined in happily with the discussion, and also told Cas about his work at the library, including how much he enjoyed teaching the toddler class twice a week.

By the time Dean pulled into a massive parking lot twenty minutes later, Cas was completely at ease. He stared at the winding metal tracks visible from even this great of a distance. They twisted and bent through the air while cars flew across them, the screams of the passengers echoing. 

“So?” Dean walked beside him toward the gate, grinning from ear to ear. “What do you think?”

Cas gazed up at the entrance, where a sign promised seven separate roller coasters and several other attractions, then nudged Dean.

“I’d say you can read me remarkably well for someone I just met.”

Dean shrugged.

“I like to think I’m good at knowing what people want.”

A warmth bloomed across Cas’ face at that when he remembered the shower he’d taken that morning. He attempted to approach the situation with his usual confidence.

“I bet you are,” he replied, and Dean sent him a smirk, causing Cas to very nearly fall over the entrance bar in his way, confidence be damned.

“I’ve got it,” Dean said, waving off Cas’ attempts to pull out his wallet, and paid for them both.

Cas followed Dean into the park, where he was met with the sight of families and couples meandering through twisted paths on their way to the different attractions.

“Where to first?” Dean asked, and Cas shook his head.

“I haven’t been here before. I don’t know where anything is,” Cas admitted.

“Dude! You haven’t been to Twin Pines? You basically live down the street!”

Cas grinned at Dean’s look of exaggerated horror.

“I never had the opportunity I suppose,” he said.

“We have a lot to do then,” Dean replied, and he inclined his head down a path to their left. “Let’s try the Aviator first.”

“You visited this place often?” Cas asked as he and Dean made their way along the cobbled path.

“Yeah, once I got my driver’s license I was here practically every weekend with Sam. He was such a badass too, never got scared of any of the rides or anything.”

“It was kind of you to bring your brother here,” Cas smiled. “Gabriel, as you can probably tell, was much more comfortable making me squirm.”

“I did plenty of that too, Cas, don’t worry,” Dean chuckled. “Once, Sam had this girl over to do a science project together. Shit, he couldn’t have been more than ten, and he had the biggest crush on her, but she was this mouthy little brat, and I wasn’t going to have any of it.”

They turned down a walkway, Cas’ attention fully on Dean as he kept talking. For all they had talked about in the car, both had adamantly avoided discussing family.

“They wanted to do a volcano for the science fair, but I convinced them that I knew something better than baking soda and vinegar, but I’d need to show them how to use it. Ruby was so bossy, she jumped right in and demanded to know how.”

Dean looked slightly guilty, which caused Cas to grin and nudge him, urging him on.

“What did you do?”

“Well, I’d heard of this stuff called elephant foam, and we had everything in the house to make it. Yeast, soap, and hydrogen peroxide. So I get all the ingredients down, get it ready, and Ruby grabs the container from me to mix it herself. She poured it together and bam. This instant foam shoots up out of the cylinder, covering her in blue crap. She stormed out of the house, and Sam nearly yelled himself hoarse at me.”

Dean was laughing now, and he and Cas took their place in line for the rollercoaster.

“I mean, I’m glad it didn’t get in her eyes, because I didn’t think it through that far, but Sam was livid. I had to clean up the mess, though. Eh, worth it.”

“I assume your parents weren’t terribly thrilled either,” Cas remarked, smiling, and a shadow of something dark flitted behind Dean’s eyes. 

“My dad wasn’t happy, no,” Dean admitted. “But I ended up being right. Ruby got arrested when she was fourteen for drugs.”

“My brother’s tricks were far less helpful,” Cas replied. “He once covered our entire kitchen floor in chocolate syrup, then yelled for me and Michael to come quickly, there was cake in the kitchen for us. We both came skidding into the room at once, hit the syrup, and fell on our faces. I was still sticky after two showers.”

They were advancing in the line quickly, and Cas realized he was speaking about Michael with only a hint of the usual twist in his gut. He was saved the confusion of the thought when he looked up at the coaster he and Dean were next in line to board. The coaster was a massive contraption, the seats built horizontally so that riders were forced to lay on their stomachs like superheroes in flight.

“Having second thoughts?” Dean asked. “Because seriously, this coaster is new and I’ve never ridden it. If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to do it.”

Cas smirked and led the way in when the attendant opened the gate. 

“I’m okay, Dean. I like trying new things.”

Cas thought he saw Dean smile, but then the two were being maneuvered into a position on their stomachs beside one another.

“Hold onto the rails in front of you,” a bored attendant said, and Dean and Cas automatically reached out to grasp at the cold steel.

Harnesses shaped like a V were lifted over their heads and drawn across their back, then clasped in a base between their legs, and the attendant moved on to work on the two people behind Dean and Cas.

“You sure about this?” Dean asked one more time.

“It’s too late now,” Cas pointed out, then looked up to meet Dean’s eyes, closer than he’d been before due to the harness. “But if you want out, I’ll ask the man to let us get off.”

Dean’s face softened.

“I’m good, Cas. Let’s do this.”

“Keep your hands on the rails at all times,” the attendant’s dull voice echoed from the control station. “And keep your heads up. Riders accept all blame for injuries, blah blah. If you pass out, the metal platform you’re lying on will support your body. Try not to do that. Enjoy the ride.”

The coaster let out a puff of compressed air, then jerked forward. Dean’s hands tightened almost imperceptibly on the railing, and he tilted his head to speak to Cas.

“At least we’re in the front, right? We’ve got a great view, and everyone behind us just sees asses.”

“Then the person behind you has the best view,” Cas remarked, pleased when a flush spread across Dean’s face.

“Just so you know, I’d be smooth too if I weren’t positive I’m about to pass out.”

“The metal platform will support your body,” Cas mimicked the attendant’s voice, and Dean chuckled.

The coaster clicked and shuddered to the top of the incline, and finally the peak became visible. Cas enjoyed the momentary pause at the top, looking around at people below and the empty space surrounding them. With an agonizingly slow tilt, the car tipped forward, and Cas found himself shooting downward quickly. His heart was pounding and he let out a happy whoop. Dean was cursing under his breath on the left, eyes clenched shut, and Cas let go of his handrail to move his hand on top of the other man’s. Dean’s eyes shot open even as they entered a three sixty turn, and he smiled.

Cas kept his hand there through the next turn, and only moved it away when the coaster glided back into the station. He and Dean were freed and moved off to the exits, Dean’s legs quivering a bit.

“That was worse than I expected,” Dean carefully took the steps down to the park path. 

“I thought it was like flying,” Cas admitted. 

“Probably why it sucked for me, then,” Dean replied. “I’m not big on flying.”

“But you like roller coasters?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, man, of course! They give you an adrenaline rush! Isn’t that why you like them?”

“Yes, but I think the adrenaline comes from losing control. This piece of machinery holds my fate in its hands, and if it decides to break, there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Dean swallowed.

“On to the next then?”

Dean led himself and Cas along through each of the seven coasters, even riding the old-fashioned wood coaster Legionnaire twice. They hopped on various other rides as well, and spent a considerable amount of time in a fake fairground inside the park, riding classic fair rides with a twist.

By half past six, both were starving.

“You paid for the park, it’s only fair I pay for dinner,” Cas pointed out to Dean when the other man’s stomach rumbled.

Dean sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face.

“Alright, but not here, okay? Shit, for eighteen bucks each, those burgers better be made of gold.”

They headed back for the gate to leave, the sun setting behind them and the weather quickly turning from cool to cold. Cas shivered, and was happy to reach the relative warmth of the car, and of his jacket he’d left in the back seat. Dean tossed Cas the keys to start the car and dug around in his trunk to get his own jacket. He opened the door and slid inside, and Cas’ eyes widened.

Dean was wearing a scuffed black leather jacket, clearly broken in and adored. He could smell the scent of leather from the close proximity to Dean, and he had to push down the impulse to reach across and feel that soft material with his own hands. Thoughts sprung to Cas’ mind about the other things he and Dean could do with leather. He knew leather riding crops existed, and handcuffs, straps, clothing…

“Where to?” Dean asked, throwing the car into reverse and pulling Cas out of his daydream. 

“Oh, um…pizza?” Cas asked, and Dean gave a shrug.

“I’m not picky, man,” he replied. “Pizza sounds awesome.”

He and Cas made their way back onto the interstate and headed back toward their town, talking the entire way. Cas had felt at ease with Dean from the moment they met, but something about his quiet confidence and friendly demeanor resonated deep inside. 

Their talking and laughter continued, even after they had reached the Sicilian Slice and ordered a massive supreme pizza. Dean nearly snorted his drink up his nose when Gabriel texted Cas a picture of the bruises around his wrists from the night before.

“That’s disgusting,” Cas curled his nose, and Dean thumped his chest to help the drink go down.

“What, the bruises?” Dean asked, and Cas waved his hand dismissively.

“No, the bruises are fine, it’s the fact that my brother felt the need to show off his sexual battle scars to me.”

“So, uh, you don’t mind being marked up from sex?” Dean was clearly trying to keep his voice conversational.

“Given the right circumstances, I don’t see a problem with it. Do you?”

“I…I haven’t had any in a long time. That’s usually something the blue bands are into, not the red bands.”

“The blue bands?” Cas pressed. “Like I was wearing at the club?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean replied. “Blue bands are for submissives. Didn’t you know that?”

“No,” Cas answered. “Gabe handed me a band and I put it on.”

Dean’s face reddened with embarrassment.

“Shit, are you not a submissive? Dude, I’ve been making these inappropriate comments all day, I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Dean,” Cas interrupted. “Relax. I don’t know much about the lifestyle, but I can assure you, I would certainly identify as submissive. And your red band meant you are-?”

“A dominant,” Dean replied, a wave of relief and something else Cas identified as excitement passing over his face. “You haven’t done anything in the lifestyle before?”

“No. Alistair was my first experience.”

Dean’s hands curled slightly on the table and his face hardened, but he relaxed with a deep breath.

“You deserve better than that. I mean, you’ve got to trust the person you scene with. It can’t be some random asshole at a kink club if you want it to be good.”

“It’s that big of a deal?” Cas asked, and Dean nodded.

“Yeah. Trust is huge in this. You have to trust the person not to hurt you badly, or push you too far, or go past your limits-”

“I think I’d like to try it,” Cas interrupted, and Dean froze in the middle of his speech.

“Cas,” Dean shook his head, swallowing and taking a steadying breath. “You hardly know about this lifestyle at all. That’s not a safe way to get into this. You’ll end up getting hurt by some dickhead like Alistair if you rush into it.”

Dean stared across the table at him, eyes alight with worry for Cas, and it very nearly made the older man smile. 

“So why don’t I try it with you?”

Whatever Dean had been expecting to hear, that wasn’t it. He choked on his drink a second time while Cas looked on calmly.

“You barely even know me!” he finally rasped out. 

“I trust you,” Cas said simply. “Better you than a stranger. I’m interested, Dean. My brother certainly seems to enjoy this, as do many other people, if the population at the club is anything to go by.”

_And I got off thinking of you holding me down this morning_ , Cas thought.

“Holy fuck, you’re serious,” Dean breathed out. 

Their moment was broken when a young waitress appeared at their table, balancing their pizza and plates, and quickly setting the table before bustling off to her next order. Dean and Cas stared at the pizza between them, neither making a move to grab a slice, until Dean finally spoke.

“If you want this, you need to be sure first,” he said hesitantly, and Cas raised his eyebrows slightly. “I’m not signing a contract with you until you’re sure about it. Go home tonight, and do some research on soft and hard limits. There’s going to be a ton of terms you don’t know, so look up every word you don’t understand. Got it?”

Cas nodded, his heart thudding in his chest. 

“If-if you still want to try by next week, we’ll meet up and talk details then. I don’t want you jumping into this unprepared.”

“And if I have any questions?” Cas asked, and Dean gave the barest hint of a smile.

“Well, you _do_ have my number.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dean and Cas finished their dinner chatting happily, and soon Dean was dropping Cas back at home. 

“I had fun today, Cas,” Dean said, the engine purring idly.

“I did as well,” Cas admitted, smiling at him. “We should do it again. Maybe we’ll try something new.”

Cas thought ahead to his research (because he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to do it tonight, no matter how tired he was from the theme park) and began to feel warm. Judging by the way Dean’s eyes widened beside him, the other man’s thoughts had followed the same path. 

Dean’s hand wrapped around his Cas’ wrist almost instantly.

“I meant it,” he said, swallowing and moving closer to speak to Cas in a softer tone. “Do your research. If you have any questions, just call me. Or hell, call me anyway. I like hearing your voice.”

Cas relaxed a bit at the touch, and he let out a small breath.

“I will.”

Dean released his wrist and sat back, looking a bit more at ease.

“Good. If you decide it’s not for you, that’s cool too. But I still want to hang out with you,” he added quickly. “You’re awesome.”

Cas grinned at that, then leaned in to brush a quick kiss across Dean’s freckled cheek, which immediately blushed pink.

“You’re not terrible yourself,” he said, and he opened the door to slide out of the car. “I’ll call you soon. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Night, Cas,” Dean answered, throwing the car into reverse but not moving his foot from the brake.

Cas walked back toward his house, his snowman chiming out a greeting again. He looked over his shoulder to see Dean watching him, laughing at the snowman, and Cas slipped his key into the lock. Dean waved at him once he opened the door, and began backing up onto the street.

Cas slipped inside the darkened house and locked the door behind him. Anxious though he was to begin looking into the lifestyle, he could smell the sweat from the day on his body, and a lingering scent of garlic from the pizza. He sighed and walked back to his bathroom, stripping and tossing the clothes in the hamper, then taking a fast and uneventful shower, forcing his mind away from the thought of Dean. That, of course, only led to the man occupying his thoughts even worse. 

He was a walking contradiction. Weren’t dominants supposed to be harsh and bossy? Cas grabbed some soft pajamas from his closet and slipped into them, chewing his lip. Dean seemed to be thoughtful and kind. He hadn’t pressured him to ride things he was uncomfortable with today at the park, hadn’t gone in for a goodnight kiss, and had even watched Cas until he made it inside the house.

The computer screen was bright when he sat in front of it, and it jarred Cas back to reality. He was being ridiculous; clearly a person could have a different personality in their everyday life and in the bedroom. He was an example of that himself.

Cas opened up Google and began to search the keywords Dean had suggested: BDSM hard and soft limits. His eyes widened at the plethora of lists available, and he clicked one at random. It was in alphabetical order, and Cas raised his brows at the first word.

Asphyxiation. 

Well, he certainly didn’t want to die during sex, and he doubted whether anyone else did either. It must not mean to go to the full extent…right? Cas sighed, and brought up a second tab to look for the details. Several articles on the subject popped up, along with some pictures, and Cas felt a familiar tightening in his chest. The pictures depicted people with different things tied around their necks, causing veins to bulge and eyes to water. It was sickening, it was disturbing, it was…familiar.

Cas groaned. Was this lifestyle really the type of thing he was into? He knew he was fucked up. He had been fucked up since Michael-

No. He wasn’t going to think of that right now. Not of the way Michael’s eyes had bulged, or his breath had choked and gurgled in his throat. Not the way the thin and tattooed stranger had kicked his dying brother in the ribs, called him pathetic, disgusting, crouched down to his level and whispered it was what he deserved.

The phone rang and Cas reached out with shaking hands to see Dean’s name on the caller ID.

“Dean,” he answered, wrapping his voice around the man on the other end of the line and holding there like a lifeline.

“Heya, Cas,” Dean greeted. “I know you said you’d call, but some of this shit can get pretty heavy, and I didn’t want to leave you alone to deal with it.”

And wasn’t that a punch to the stomach?

Some of the things on the list were frankly terrifying. Could Dean truly be trusted if he was into this sort of behavior? But, Cas reasoned, what did that make him? He wanted this too.

“Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded worried on the other end of the line.

“Y-yes. I’m fine, Dean. Thank you for calling to check on me,” Cas said in a stronger voice, a niggling in his brain urging him to deflect the questions, change the subject. “It’s not the first time I’ve been tied up.”

Dean paused on the other end of the line.

“Cas, I…yeah. Call me if you have any questions, okay?”

Cas got the distinct impression that he meant to say something else, but he didn’t give Dean time to change his mind.

“I will. Now, you’re being a giant distraction, and I have quite bit of research to do. How about we meet up on Friday and talk about what I find?”

“And if you don’t want to do it?” Dean asked. “You still want to come over?”

“Of course. I rather enjoy being around you.”

Cas can practically hear Dean’s grin over the phone, and can’t help smiling himself.

“Same here. Want me to come by after work?”

“I was actually thinking we could meet up at your place,” Cas suggested.

Dean gave a small intake of air, and Cas furrowed his brow.

“I-it’s a mess right now, man, and I won’t have time to clean it up. Besides, you live closer to the library, so I could just come straight there.”

“Oh,” Cas replied. “Of course, Dean. I’ll see you on Friday.” 

The pair said their goodbyes and hung up for the evening. Cas continued on with his research, more timid now, but pleased that nothing else seemed to be quite as disturbing on a personal level. He felt off; something about Dean had seemed strained and different at the end of their call. Cas sighed and looked at the scrawled list of hard limits, with asphyxiation being the number one. Maybe he wasn’t the only one with a story to hide.

*

Cas spent the rest of the week going over papers from his students and researching the BDSM community at every spare opportunity. Dean left him alone for the most part, allowing him to explore on his own, but texted him occasionally to check in.

**Still doing good? –D**

**_Yes. The same as I was when you asked that question every night since Monday. –C_ **

**Smartass –D**

**_One of my many redeeming qualities –C_ **

There was a lull in conversation, and Cas finished up checking over Charlie’s paper, intrigued by her interpretation of Caulfield. The final paper wasn’t due yet, but if this preliminary paper was anything to go by, he would have to discuss expanding it for publication with her. A ding sounded from his phone, and he picked it up to check his messages.

**I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. –D**

A grin spread across Cas’ face. 

**_Me either. We have a lot to discuss –C_ **

**Still meeting at your house at 6? –D**

**_Unless I’ve moved and not told myself. –C_ **

**One of these days, that mouth is going to get you in trouble. –D**

**_Maybe I’m looking forward to it –C_ **

This had suddenly taken an interesting turn. Cas grinned when Dean didn’t respond right away, hoping to have left the man at least semi flustered.

**I know some ways to tame it –D**

And this time, Dean had sent a picture. Cas opened it with slightly shaking fingers. It appeared to be a blurred picture of a small wooden chest. Dean’s hand was wound around two objects, which Cas immediately identified as a pair of shiny silver handcuffs, and a red ball gag.

Cas pressed the heel of his palm against his dick, which had certainly perked up at the image.

**_Tell me how you’d use those…-C_ **

**So demanding. What do you say when you want something, Castiel? –D**

Dean had used his whole name, and in this context, it may very well be the sexiest thing Cas had ever seen. He licked his lips and started typing out a message, thankful for his research.

**_I apologize for my rudeness. Please, tell me what you would do to me, sir. –C_ **

Cas’ heart was pounding at just this tiny hint of submission. He would never have considered himself the type to do something like this, but it felt good. Someone else was in control, deciding where to take it, and that made him feel more relaxed. A new message popped up.

**I’d start by handcuffing your beautiful hands behind your back and unbuttoning your shirt to show that soft skin. Then I’d shove the gag in your mouth and snap it behind your head. After that, I’d push you down onto my bed. –D**

Cas groaned and popped the button on his pants, shoving them down with his boxers, and running a finger up his hard shaft. Little dots on the screen told him that Dean was typing again, and he lay back against the back of the couch and waited, barely touching himself.

**I’d worship the skin I could reach, kiss little purple and red bruises onto your perfect skin. I’d lick and suck my way across it until you were begging me to touch you.**

**_Keep talking –C_ **

**_I mean, please keep talking sir –C_ **

Cas finally gave in and gave his dick a squeeze, hissing out at the touch, and then moving to drag his fingers across the head and spread the precome down himself. He stroked lazily, letting the tension build.

**I’d work my way down your body and slide your pants and boxers off, then push your legs apart until I could mouth at your balls. I’d get them so wet. –D**

His hand sped up, imagining Dean holding his legs apart and licking at the sensitive skin of his balls. How warm his mouth would feel, how silky his tongue would be. He moaned and bit his lip, anxiously waiting for Dean’s next text.

**I’d spread you open and lick into your hole with my tongue, moving fast then going slow, until you’re writhing against my face and begging for me to fill you up. But I won’t. You know why that is, Castiel?**

Cas typed his reply one-handed, practically vibrating with pleasure.

**_Why, sir?_ **

**Because you’re going to come around my tongue.**

“Fuck, _Dean_!” Cas shouted, his body jackknifing off the couch with the intensity of his orgasm washing over him.

He shot thick come across his shirt and stroked himself through the aftershocks, his breath coming in heavy pants. He slowed to a stop and wiped his hand across his shirt, reaching for his phone just as another text came in.

**Enjoy yourself? ;) –D**

Cas grinned, blissed out. He turned the camera function on and swiped his finger through his come, then brought it to his lips. He snapped a picture of himself licking it off, and fired it off to Dean, then went to clean up. He came back moments later in a fresh shirt, still feeling pleasantly loose-limbed, and saw another message from Dean.

**Holy shit. –D**

A laugh bubbled up out of Cas’ chest.

**_I’ll see you tomorrow night. –C_ **

**I can’t wait. -D**

Cas couldn’t either.


	4. Chapter 4

Cas spent the next day lounging around the house and waiting impatiently for the evening to come. He compulsively cleaned the already meticulous living room, and was sitting there at six, when Dean arrived with a gentle knock on the door.

“Hello,” Cas said with a smile, stepping back and allowing him to come inside. 

Dean gave a lopsided grin.

“Heya, Cas,” he replied, coming into the house and sitting down on Cas’ sofa when the other man motioned toward it. 

It wasn’t nearly as awkward as Cas had expected after the previous night. Instead, excitement thrummed through his veins, and he found speaking to Dean was as easy as always.

“Did you have a good day at work?” Cas asked after grabbing them a few drinks from the fridge.

“Yeah, it was great! Fridays are when I teach my toddler class. We started a new book today…”

Cas listened intently as Dean talked about the handful of kids he taught a few times a week, and all about the things they got into. Dean’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he told an especially good story about one little girl, who had apparently seen her father get out of the shower that morning, and asked Dean why her daddy had a tail on his front.

“I didn’t know what to tell her,” he admitted. “I think I just mumbled something about dragons and moved on.”

“Dean Winchester, actually speechless for once?” Cas grinned. “I can’t believe it.”

“It happens more than you think. Last night for example.”

“Oh?” Cas feigned confusion. “What happened last night?”

“A sexy man nearly made me come in my boxers with a filthy picture,” Dean’s eyes glinted mischievously, and he leaned closer to Cas. “And that picture got me off again this morning.”

“Then maybe we should talk about our…arrangement,” Cas supplied, licking his lips.

“You still want to do it? I need you to be sure, Cas,” Dean said seriously.

Cas looked at Dean, pupils widened with lust, and tried to think logically. He could control his list of hard limits, and he could stop Dean with a safe word. He trusted this man to take care of him.

“Yes,” he answered unwaveringly. “As long as you concede to my limits.”

Dean looked relieved.

“Let’s take a look at our lists,” Dean suggested. “That way we both know what to expect before we sign any contracts.”

“Did you bring the contract with you?” Cas asked, laying his own list out on the table as Dean lay his out as well.

“I did,” he replied. “But forget about that until we make sure we want the same things. What did you put on your hard limits list?”

Cas scanned over it and read aloud the few things he had decided would be far too much for him to handle.

“Nothing to do with a bathroom, and I mean that in terms of controlling when I can go, or using the bathroom in the bedroom,” he curled his nose, disgusted at the thought. “I don’t want to be auctioned off or given to another dom, branded or permanently marked in any way, mummified, used in any sort of bestiality or pet play, and…and no asphyxiation or cutting. Those last two are important to me.”

Dean watched Cas as he read his list off, nodding.

“I’m not into any of those things either, and asphyxiation weirds me out. I’m afraid something could happen, the rope could get too tight or something. What about breath play? Is that included in your list of hard limits?”

“No,” Cas replied. “I’d be willing to try that. I just refuse to have anything wrapped around my neck except for hands.”

“Deal,” Dean said with a smile.

“And you? What are your hard limits?” Cas asked, feeling much more relaxed now that he knew his limits list wasn’t a deal breaker for Dean.

“Actually, I have most of the same ones you do, just a few more. No cages or cells of any kind, no gang bangs, and no age play,” Dean said, his face betraying a brief look of disgust, and something else Cas couldn’t read. 

Cas wanted to ask him why, of all the things in the lifestyle, those were the ones Dean couldn’t stand. However, Dean had let his slide without asking, which Cas was thankful for, and he wouldn’t press the other man to reveal his reasoning either.

“Also fair,” Cas agreed. “And soft limits?”

“Just one,” Dean looked down. “Face slapping is a soft limit for me. Yours?”

“Only three,” Cas grinned. “No sounding-”

“Sounding can be _awesome,_!” Dean cut in. “I mean, yeah, it looks like a horrible idea until you actually try it. There’s all this pressure, and it feels so good. I'd never force you or anything, but I do it to myself sometimes.”

“That’s why it’s a soft limit, Dean. I don’t care to try it, but I want to work up to it. That’s how I decided that particular item was going to be on my soft limits list; it’s something I want to try eventually, I just need some time to get there.”

“What else is on your list?” Dean asked, eyes twinkling.

“Controlling food and clothing,” Cas scrunched his nose up. “That comes a bit too close to abusive and controlling for me.”

“That’s more for 24/7 anyway. As in, that’s for total submission, where the people live together.”

That raised and entirely new question for Cas.

“So how often did you want to do this anyway? We never discussed that,” Cas pointed out, and Dean chuckled.

“I always wanted to try a total submission thing,” he admitted. “But it’s just not practical. No one wants to live with a stranger, and my house…well, we couldn’t live there.”

Something stirred in Cas’s chest. Being Dean’s submissive all the time? Living with the man who made him feel something other than numb for the first time in years?

“We could live here,” he supplied, and Dean’s gaze snapped up to him.

“Cas, that’s- you don’t even know what to expect yet. You don’t want to go straight to that before you even scene. It may not be for you.”

“Go big or go home,” Cas shrugged. “But if you’re so worried about it, do a scene with me.”

Dean gaped a moment.

“What, now?” he asked.

“Well, yes. If I like it, we sign the contract, and you move in here.”

Dean swallowed, and though he looked pleasantly surprised, he shook his head.

“No. I refuse to let you rush into something you don’t understand.”

“So teach me,” Cas said, moving closer on the couch and grinning, while Dean’s eyes widened. “Let me try it. If I like it, we do a trial period where you live here. If it’s not right, we stop, no strings attached.”

Dean continued to look at Cas, confused and hopeful at once.

“Come on, sir. Tell me how I can please you,” Cas said, dropping his voice, and that got Dean’s attention.

“What’s your safe word?” he asked, and Cas grinned.

“Kansas.”

Something changed about Dean. He sat up straighter, his chin a bit higher, and it set Cas’s pulse racing. Dean had a glint in his eye, an excitement, and Cas found himself drawn in.

“Take me to your bedroom, Castiel.”

Cas rose at once and led the way upstairs. He pushed the door open to his clinically plain room, and Dean stepped inside.

“Get undressed. Fold your clothing and put it on the nightstand, and sit with your hands in your lap at the foot of the bed.”

Dean watched Cas closely as he stripped out of each item of clothing, folding it precisely even with slightly shaking hands. His dick hardened with each passing moment, and by the time he was down to his boxers, he was thick and long with need, and sucked in a breath between his teeth when his boxers dragged over his length when lowered. He folded them and sat on the bed, hands in his lap, eagerly awaiting Dean’s next command.

“Good work, Castiel. You’re very obedient. Would you like to see me?”

Cas nodded, and Dean grinned at him.

“You’re allowed to talk. Just don’t move unless I say so.”

Dean smirked at Cas and popped the buttons on his shirt through their holes one by one, until the flannel hung off his frame loosely, then slowly slid it down and off his arms, tossing it carelessly to the floor. He grabbed the hem of his undershirt and peeled it off his body inch by inch, exposing a muscular stomach with just enough of a pudge to make him look soft to the touch. The shirt joined the other in the floor, and Dean licked his lips as he popped the button of his jeans, taking a condom from his pocket and tossing it carelessly onto the bed.

Cas wanted to wrap his hand around his own leaking dick and stroke. Watching Dean like this was the single most erotic thing he’d ever done. He let out a tiny sound when Dean’s shoes and socks joined the pile of clothing, kicked off without a care of where they ended up, and he slid his jeans down deliciously toned and pale thighs. Dean palmed himself through the boxers and dropped his head back, running a hand down his body, then looked at Cas while pushing his underwear off. His cock sprang free, and Cas stared at it. Dean was cut, just as Cas was, and was a bit shorter, though he made up for that with sheer girth. Cas practically salivated at the thick cock in front of him.

Dean sauntered toward Cas, shoving him in the chest so that he fell onto his back.

“Get up higher on the bed and put your hands behind your head.”

Cas crawled back at once until his head was resting on the pillows and moved his hands obediently. Dean crouched beside him and slung one leg over Cas’s waist, his heavy balls dragging across Cas’s stomach. He crept up his body until his dick was mere inches from Cas’s mouth. He reached to the side of the bed and grabbed the condom, opening it and rolling it down his length with a skilled hand. Cas alternated between staring at the cock in front of him and looking up at Dean, licking his lips. Dean pressed forward, bringing the head of his dick to Cas’s mouth and running it across his full lips with a moan. He used his thumb to open Cas’s mouth, and held his dick there with his other hand.

“Now, Castiel. Suck.”

With that, he gave a small thrust forward, and Cas eagerly opened his mouth and set to work sucking and licking at Dean’s cock. He stretched his lips around Dean’s girth, spit pooling at the corners of his mouth and starting a steady trek down his chin, yet he didn’t dare move his hands to wipe it away. Dean began to thrust more, grunting.

“Fuck, baby, just like that. Bet you love taking my cock deep into your throat,” he reached down and grabbed a handful of Cas’s hair, using it as leverage to continue thrusting into his mouth. “Letting me fuck your mouth, so _good_ Castiel. Such a good boy.”

Cas gave a strangled moan and Dean’s movements started to turn erratic.

“Your _mouth_. So warm and wet…you look good taking my dick in- ah! Just like that! I’m going to come just from the feeling of that tight, hot throat wrapped around my cock.”

Cas was positively aching. Every word Dean said, every push to the back of his throat, made Cas float higher and higher. His own pleasure was entwined with Dean’s; every thought and action reduced down to the feeling of Dean fucking into his face, and the sounds of the words he was saying. Dean gripped his hair tightly and tugged with each thrust into Cas's mouth, and the pain mingled with his pleasure. 

“Mmm, Castiel!” Dean’s motions became harsher. “Take that dick, _fuck_!”

Dean stiffened above him and came with a deep moan, filling the condom. He gave a few more feeble thrusts then pulled back, and Cas licked his lips, wishing the thin rubber wasn't all he could taste.

“Show me how you make yourself come, Castiel. I want to see you.”

Dean moved off to the side, legs quivering when he took off the condom and tossed it to the trash bin, and Cas eagerly brought his hand down to his mouth, licking it before encircling his dick. He started pumping, toes curling at the sensation.

“Yeah, that’s right baby. Show me what you do when you’re alone. Do you think of some man bending you over and fucking you from behind? Or do you wish you were riding a big dick, feeling some stranger push and pull inside you?”

Cas shook his head, biting his bottom lip. He wasn’t thinking of anyone else but the man sitting beside him. How he wished Dean was fucking him rough and hard, until he practically begged for release.

“No?” Dean continued, and Cas sped up his hand. “I bet you think of someone dominating you, using you for pleasure. Someone who knows what you need and gives it to you, until you’re spent. Someone holding you down while they fuck you.”

Dean leaned over and licked the shell of Cas’s ear, whispering while the other man bucked up into his fist.

“I’ll give you all of it.”

Cas came with a shout, his orgasm ripping through his body and covering his stomach with his release. He gave his dick one last feeble tug, then collapsed back onto the bed, exhausted.

The next thing he was aware of was Dean wiping him down with a warm rag, kissing his skin as he did so.

“Hope you don’t mind,” he said. “I grabbed this from your bathroom when you passed out for a minute. You okay?”

Cas nodded, eyes heavy. Dean finished cleaning him up and pulled the blankets out from under him. He climbed into bed beside Cas and covered them both up, holding Cas close.

“You did so well. I’m very proud of you,” Dean ran his hands up and down Cas’s side and whispered praises against him until Cas was barely conscious.

“Contract,” Cas managed to say thickly, but Dean just continued to hold him.

“Take a nap first, Cas. It’ll still be there, and you need to recover. Do you need a drink?”

Cas shook his head and curled closer in on Dean. The last thing he remembered before he drifted off was the feeling of a soft hand raking down his back.

*

When Cas awoke, a quick look at the clock on the nightstand told him he’d been out for an hour. Dean was pressed up against his back, arms still wrapped around him. Cas was warm and sated, and he nuzzled into his pillow with a happy sound.

“Back with me?” Dean asked, laughter evident in his voice.

Cas rolled over to face him, keeping the blankets tight around himself.

“That was quite enjoyable,” he said with a sleepy smile.

“I couldn’t tell."

“Smartass,” Cas retorted.

Dean paused for a moment, letting his hand rake up and down Cas’s side before speaking again.

“You really liked it?” he finally asked, and Cas snorted.

“I came all over my own chest then passed out for an hour. Yes, Dean, I liked it. Enough that I would very much like to do this all the time. We’ll look at the contract if you let me get my pants on.”

Dean laughed and rolled over out of the way, already in his own boxers. Cas reached for his boxers on the nightstand and threw them on, then stretched and popped his back. He motioned for Dean to follow him downstairs, and they sat back on the couch, contract in front of them.

“Don’t sign this unless you’re completely comfortable with everything in it. We can change it. And it’s not like it’s a legally binding contract, it’s just for our use.”

“You don’t want me to sign it now?”

“I want you to be sure of what you want, Cas. Look over it tonight, and if you’re happy with it, I’ll come over tomorrow and we’ll sign it, and I’ll make you dinner. If you don’t want to sign it, I’ll still make you dinner anyway. My barbeque ribs are killer.”

Cas took the paper and sat it to the side, planning on going over it as soon as he could. It was soon pushed to the back of his mind, as he and Dean ordered pizza, marathoned cult shows on Netflix, and spent hours talking about everything from family members to conspiracy theories. By the time Dean reluctantly decided to head home late that night, Cas had nearly forgotten the contract altogether.

“Get some sleep, Spock,” Dean yawned his farewell at the door.

“Be careful going home. You’re exhausted. Are you sure you won’t stay here?” Cas asked again, but Dean shook his head.

“No, I’ve got a skype call with Sammy in the morning.”

He took another step toward his car, and the snowman on the roof chimed out loudly, making Dean jump. It yelled out its holiday greetings, pulling its head off with a mechanical whirring noise.

“Jesus! At least you don’t need a security system. Everyone in the neighborhood knows when you’ve got someone in your driveway.”

As if on cue, Rufus Turner flung open his window, glasses shoved haphazardly on his nose and robe askew.

“I swear to fucking Satan himself, Novak!” he roared.

“It’s my home security,” Cas yelled back, putting on a fake southern accent. “I’m just a poor single man livin’ in a violent world, Mr. Turner. I need something to protect little old me.”

“Get a gun,” Rufus retorted. “I’ll lend you mine after I pump your snowman full of lead.”

With that, he slammed the window, and Cas laughed.

“He’s going to do it someday, Cas,” Dean told him. “You’re going to keep pushing, and he’s going to kill your snowman. Then how will I know you’re safe?”

“Easy,” Cas told him, taking a step back toward the door while Dean walked further to his car. “I’ll have you.”

Dean dropped his head, cheeks tinging pink.

“G’night, Cas,” he said, going to get in his car.

Cas waved him off and started locking up for bed. He took the contract with him to read over, setting it on his bed, and had just gotten out of the shower and into pajamas when his phone chimed.

**Made it home –D**

**_The snowguard is doing his job. There is no suspicious activity to report, captain. –C_ **

**Good to hear. We may have to up the ranks. Recruit some more soldiers. –D**

**_Just what Rufus wants, I’m sure. We could make him honorary general. –C_ **

**Hey! What rank am I? –D**

**_Grand Poobah. –C_ **

**I will be a loved leader. Kind but firm. Free carrot noses for all recruits. –D.**

Cas laughed. Texting Dean was filling him with warmth and peacefulness, something he hadn’t realized he had missed. For the first time since Michael’s death, Cas could actually feel.

**_Get some sleep, Poobah. –C_ **

**You too, Spock. –D**

Cas put his phone to the side and lay back in bed, the contract in his hands. He read until the words bled together, though he knew it was only because Dean had asked him to. He trusted Dean not to put anything sketchy into the contract, and the thought dawned on him with a mix of confusion and excitement. 

Cas trusted Dean.


	5. Chapter 5

Cas noticed a bit of a spring to his step the next day. He smiled through his morning run, shower, and cup of coffee, and his mood was still high as he worked his way through the papers his students had turned in on The Catcher in the Rye. As always, he started with his most difficult students to grade. Bela had predictably written a scathing review of Caulfield, insisting that his constant “whining over his dead brother” was a sign of weakness. Becky Rosen, on the other hand, had argued that Caulfield missing his brother was an indicator of future sexual tension between the two, and had they both grown up, an incestuous relationship would have formed. Cas marked her paper for grammar and reference inconsistencies, trying to maintain neutral.

Charlie’s paper was much better, with her thesis being that Caulfield was working through his confusion regarding his bisexuality by harkening back to his younger years. Kevin, on the other hand, said the entire piece was written as a criticism of modern communications. All in all, the papers were fantastic and insightful, and by the time Dean rang Cas’s doorbell that evening, Cas was reminded of why he loved to teach.

“Look at you, all cheery,” Dean greeted him, and Cas walked with him to the kitchen. “Something good happen?”

“My students are impeccable writers, even if their ideas can be…unique,” Cas acquiesced, thinking of Becky’s take on the story. “I was going to record another lesson, if you don’t mind…?”

“Nah, man. Get your professor on. I’ll get the ribs started in here.”

“I was actually going to bring my laptop in here. I like watching you,” Cas grinned, and Dean chuckled.

“I won’t screw up the lesson with noise?”

“Dean, half of these students will be stoned out of their minds while they watch my lectures. I should have you do the lesson just to fuck with them.”

Dean barked out a laugh at that, and Cas went to get his computer. By the time he came back, Dean had laid his ingredients out and was beginning to mix together the spices for a rub, while setting aside a cabbage head to make homemade slaw. Cas set up his computer at the kitchen table, facing it away from Dean, and started his recording.

“Hello, everyone. I finished reading your papers today, and I was impressed with your many takes on Caulfield and the story as a whole. I tend to agree with you, Charlie, when you said that Caulfield is running away. Subtext is a powerful tool.”

Cas spoke about the novel for several minutes, bringing up good points from all of his students, and disagreeing with certain arguments as well. He then moved on to their next assignment, holding up his own well-worn copy of the book in his hands to show the camera.

“Be warned, this one is weird. And by weird, I mean we’re talking time traveling and aliens who look like plungers. Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut,” Cas noticed Dean look up from his cooking at that, but plowed on. “Now, in a book like this, symbolism is everywhere. I want you to read the first chapter by next week, and your essay will be based on your perception of the meaning. Remember, there’s no right or wrong answers in symbolism. Any intelligent argument is considered valid. That’s all for today. Have a great week.”

He stopped the recording with a click and saved the file before uploading it to the class site, then snapped his laptop closed and sat back in his chair.

“Vonnegut, huh?” Dean asked, drying his hands and coming over to sit with Cas. “He’s my favorite author.”

“He’s one of mine as well,” Cas raised his eyebrows. “Though Harper Lee may have him beat by a hair.”

“That’s one hell of a novel you assigned,” Dean said, and Cas nodded.

“I’m aware. It’s my job to push these kids to read new things, develop new ideas.”

“Then you picked a good book. That thing is like an acid trip. I bet they write awesome papers on it, though.”

“Would you like to read them?” Cas asked. “If you swear to secrecy, of course.”

Dean held up a hand and placed the other over his heart, looking excited at the idea.

“I, Dean Winchester, do solemnly swear to not speak about your students’ papers to anyone, or else face castration with a rusted kitchen utensil.”

“I’ll agree to it,” Cas’s eyes twinkled. “Though try not break your oath, Sir Winchester. I rather like you uncastrated.”

Dean laughed and Cas stood, stretching. 

“We’ve got a few hours before the ribs get done. Low and slow, that’s the only way to cook barbeque. Did you want to talk about the contract?”

“Yes,” Cas said at once, and he motioned for Dean to follow him to the living room. “I’ve had the opportunity to look over it.”

“And?” Dean asked, sitting on the couch with Cas.

“And I want to sign. I also can assure you I read it close enough to see where you typed ‘Cas, say something stupid when I ask if you want to sign so I know you actually read this’, and to that, let me just say that I’m thankful centipedes don’t have to wear shoes. Their closets would be enormous.”

“I think that qualifies,” Dean replied, eyes twinkling.

“Indeed.”

“Alright, then,” Dean said happily. “And you still want to do 24/7? Even with that, we can take breaks from it if we need to.”

“I believe I’d like that. How would we know when I’m considered your sub?”

At this, Dean’s cheeks tinged pink and he dug around his jacket pocket, producing a thin strip of well-made brown leather. Markings in an indecipherable language were etched onto the leather in intricate forms.

“I thought we could use this,” he suggested, holding it out to Cas.

“Is this a collar?” Cas asked, taking the leather and turning it over in his hands; it looked pristine, even though Cas silently wondered how many subs Dean had given it to in his history as a dom.

Dean seemed to read the discomfort on Cas’s face, even if he misinterpreted it.

“If it’s too much, we don’t have to do it,” he said quickly, holding his hand out to take the collar back. “Because I-I don’t do _serious_ , Cas. I need you to know that before we even get started. I don’t- _I can’t_.”

Cas paused, not sure how to interpret that. He enjoyed Dean’s company, of course. He liked the man’s sense of humor, his protective nature, and he certainly found him sexually attractive. But he knew that he wasn't any good for Dean. Cas had hurt enough people in his life already. Dean was a ray of pure light, and Cas should walk away while he had the chance to protect him.

But, the selfish side of his brain argued, Dean gave him happiness that he hadn’t had since before the night Michael died. He was sleeping through the night again instead of waking up in a cold sweat, images of bulging eyes and pooling spittle flashing in his mind. With Dean, he could hand over control. He could feel safe. He would take that little piece of calm any way he could get it. If Cas was lucky, he would get sex _and_ friendship out of this deal. His stomach churned with guilt over allowing Dean to be around him when he clearly deserved better, but he made up his mind, raising the collar to his neck and fastening it with steady hands.

“Y-you’re sure?” Dean asked, and Cas nodded with a soft smile. “That’s…wow. That’s awesome, man.”

Cas picked up the pen to sign the contract, but Dean sat his hand on his and stopped him, looking up at Cas seriously.

“You look hot as hell in that collar, Cas,” he grinned. “But I need you to take it off to sign. It has to be your own free will, and I’m not taking any chances with hurting you.”

Cas reluctantly took the collar back off and placed it in his lap. He looked down at it, a warmth beginning to stir in his lower stomach. If just the feel of the leather could do this to his body, he could hardly wait to see how Dean could make it even better. Maybe he'd bend Cas over the way he had talked about before, filling him up. Or perhaps he'd let Cas ride him, hands bound behind his back and positively writhing on Dean's cock. His own dick was growing hard in his pants at the thought, and he surreptitiously adjusted himself.

“I’m going to put it back on when we get this all figured out,” Cas admitted, gesturing at the contract, and Dean let out a laugh.

“Fuck, yes, you are. We’ve got to do this first, though. Lesson one in BDSM: don’t screw around with the important stuff in your hurry to get laid.” Dean winked and pulled the contract closer, then showed Cas their list of limits, revised to their specifications, and went over basic information until he finally reached the last page. “And this is just the health information. Most importantly, condoms are used between us until we go to the health clinic and get our test results back.”

“I’m clean,” Cas said at once, and Dean nodded.

“Me too. But don’t take someone’s word for it. We stick with the condoms for now.”

“I’d rather taste you,” Cas shrugged, agreeing to the sensible terms but remembering the synthetic taste of the condom from the only time he’d given Dean a blowjob.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean breathed, then took a steadying breath. “I get it, I want to taste you too. But not yet.”

“Fine,” Cas grumbled, then nudged Dean playfully. “And you’ll live here, correct?”

“If that’s what you still want, then yes. I’ll live here until the end of the trial period in November, when we’ll decide if we want to keep going. But if you want to stop earlier, you can. You just have to say so.”

“When are you going to move in?” Cas questioned, and Dean bit his lip.

“I don’t have much to move, really. I can be in here in a couple of days? I have to work, but I’ll pack up my stuff tomorrow and get moved in by the next day. If you’re _sure_.”

“Dean, I’m already planning which bedroom you can move into,” Cas grinned, picking up the pen again and leaning over to sign his name.

Dean watched him sign his name neatly on the line, then took the offered pen to add his own scribble. He had barely finished signing his name when Cas slipped the leather collar back on with a satisfied sound. 

“Now, sir,” he said, sliding to his knees on the floor beside the couch and looking up at Dean with bright eyes. “We still have plenty of time before dinner. How may I please my master?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that we've gotten all that boring procedural stuff out of the way, the boys can really start to have some fun. Important note: Dean's right, always use a condom, even if the other person says they're clean. And before you get into kinky fun, be sure to have your guidelines and rules set up. It may not be sexy, but being safe is the most important part.


	6. Chapter 6

Cas stayed kneeled on the ground and looked up at Dean with wide, playful eyes. He could see the other man’s gaze darkening with lust, and a thrill of excitement ran through him at the thought of the world opened to him by signing that simple piece of paper. He shifted on his knees, trying to get more comfortable, and waited patiently for Dean to speak. 

Instead, Dean lowered his hand to Cas’s hair and ran his fingers through the strands, a pensive look on his face. He gave a sharp tug and pulled Cas up, adjusting him to sit straddling Dean’s lap. Cas let out a tiny whimper and rutted his hips forward, his dick already quickly hardening at the pain-pleasure that had shot through his scalp. Dean immediately put his hands on Cas’s hips and pulled him down hard as he thrust up, gradually creating a sinful rhythm between their bodies that had Cas biting his bottom lip and grasping Dean’s shoulders with a tight grip. Dean cupped the side of Cas’s face and tugged him down so he could lick and suck at his ear.

“You’re so hot for me,” Dean groaned as he bit down on Cas’s earlobe, earning him a gasp. “And you’re all mine, to do anything I want with. You’d do anything I asked, wouldn’t you?”

“Y-yes, sir,” Cas stuttered breathlessly, their thrusts picking up speed.

“I could put you over my knee and spank your ass until it’s bright red, and I bet you’d beg me for more. Maybe I’d finger that tight hole of yours and order you to come just around my fingers, and you’d do that too. Do you know why?” Dean questioned, and Cas shook his head. “Because you’re _mine_.”

He punctuated the last word with a hard thrust upward and Cas moaned, letting his head drop back. He was so close, just a little more...

Dean gripped his hips tightly again and held him still. Cas gave a needy sound and tried to keep moving, but Dean held him firmly.

“Please,” Cas begged, but Dean didn’t budge. 

“You’ve been such a good boy, Castiel,” he cooed with a sly grin. “But you need to go get washed up for dinner later. Go and run yourself a bath. Lay in the bath and stop the water right when it’s high enough to cover your thighs. Do not touch yourself, or make yourself come. I have to check dinner, then I’ll be right in to keep you company.”

“Yes, sir,” Cas said, doing his best to inject disappointment into his voice; rather than being abashed, Dean looked mischievous. 

Cas stood up, legs wobbly, and made his way toward the bathroom. He turned the faucets on, making the water hot as he could stand it, then plugged the drain before stripping off his clothes (he decided to leave the collar on after a moment’s hesitation) and tossing them into the hamper. Cas hissed when his toes touched the water, but lowered himself into the tub, his erection still hard and heavy, and curling upward toward his stomach. Soon, the water was at the level Dean had requested, and he cut it off, wriggling his toes at the sensation. At that level, his balls were submerged in the heat while the water gently lapped at the base of his dick. Cas longed to wrap his hand around his length and fuck his fist, but dispelled that idea quickly when he thought of how disappointed Dean would be. He didn’t want to let down his dom on the first day…or ever, when he thought about it.

“Very good,” Dean said from the doorway, and he sauntered in, kneeling down beside the tub and, oddly enough, setting an empty glass on the sink. “We still have to clean you.”

Dean reached across Cas and grabbed a bar of soap, then set to work lathering him up. He worked painstakingly slowly, hands massaging suds into Cas’s skin. Dean began with Cas’s shoulders and worked his way down. His fingers moved in tiny, relaxing circles to cover the expanse of his tanned skin from shoulders to hips, down his legs and over his feet, always soft and gentle. Cas’s face burned red when Dean asked him to use a washcloth to clean his behind, but Dean just winked and assured him that he’d get to that part on his own eventually, though perhaps not tonight. Any objections Cas had to that were quickly diminished when Dean used the bar of soap on his cock.

All of his previous touches had been warm, but the way he touched him now was clinical; it was as though Dean was trying to give him as little stimulation as possible. The cool bar of soap slid up the side of Cas’s erection. Once he was satisfied with how soapy Cas was, Dean sat the bar back down and finally met Cas’s gaze.

“Almost done,” he said, eyes dropping to the collar. A brief look of hunger crossed Dean’s face, but he blinked and looked away, devoting himself to the new task.

Cas gasped sharply when Dean wrapped his hand around his soapy cock and began to stroke him, a tepid lather forming and making the feeling slick and smooth. He turned questioning eyes to Dean, who shrugged.

“It’s my job to take care of you. And I want to make sure you’re clean and comfortable.”

He tightened his grip and sped up the strokes, drawing a moan from Cas, who curled his toes in the water and started thrusting up in tiny movements into Dean’s fist. It was smooth, and _wet_ , and Cas grasped at the sides of the tub as he felt a familiar tightening in his lower stomach. He was a string pulled taut, any second he was going to snap-

Then Dean’s hand was gone. Cas’s gaze shot to him immediately, but found Dean reaching for the cup on the counter by the sink. He was hard, achingly so, and he thrust his hips up into the air, a whine escaping his lips.

“Shh, Castiel. We have to wash the soap off,” Dean soothed him, and he scooped up the steaming water in the cup, then held it over Cas’s dick.

Dean tipped the cup enough to allow a thin, steady stream of the water to pour out, aiming it directly at the tip of Cas’s flushed erection. Cas moaned in surprise; the heat and the feel of the water running across the sensitive head of his cock were pure bliss. He dropped his head back against the tub and rocked his hips, eyes clenched shut as he hovered right at the edge of orgasm, just needing a bit more.

Dean seemed to sense that, and used the nail of his middle finger to gently scrape Cas’s dick from the root to the tip in a quick, smooth flick. 

“Dean!” Cas shouted in shock and pleasure as his orgasm shot through his body like lightening, and he writhed in the water, coming hard enough to cause ringing in his ears. Wave after wave pulsed through his body until he finally collapsed back against the tub, breathing heavily, and belatedly realized that Dean was no longer pouring water over his swiftly softening cock.

He sat up in a daze to see Dean wide-eyed and flushed, and reached out a shaky hand toward him. Before he could ask to get him off too, Dean took his hand and kissed the knuckles softly.

“Do you have any idea,” he whispered, low and sultry, “how fucking _sexy_ you are when you come?”

Cas didn’t have time to formulate a response to that before Dean was swiftly unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them and his boxers down. He wrapped one hand around himself and leaned back against the other, thrusting into his fist and making sounds better than any porn Cas had ever seen. He wanted to touch Dean, to reach across the space between them and bring him to completion with his warm, wet hand, but this arrangement was still new. He didn’t know if Dean liked to be touched when he was in this mindset, and truth be told, he was still reeling from the mind-blowing orgasm Dean had just pulled out of him. Instead, Cas leaned on the side of the tub and watched, licking his lips. He didn’t want to sit idly by, however, and decided to use his wrecked voice to the best of his advantage.

“That felt amazing, sir,” he practically growled, and Dean bit down on his bottom lip, staring at him as he spoke. “All it took was one little touch from you, and I made a mess of myself. I covered myself in come, all because of you.”

One quick glance down revealed that there was still some come left on his chest, and Cas swiped it up on his finger, staring at Dean as he put the digit into his mouth and sucked. The air seemed to be punched out of Dean’s lungs at the sight, and Cas removed the finger, licking his lips. Dean was right on the edge, panting and moaning.

Cas leaned part way out of the tub, still not touching the other man, and looked into his bright green eyes.

“My master is so good to me.”

Dean’s eyes rolled back in his head and his hips stuttered as he came in thick ropes onto his shirt. Cas just stared, in awe at the power of the simple words he had just said, and watched Dean ride out his orgasm until he stilled, taking in heaving breaths and opening his eyes to look at Cas again.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” he said, still breathing heavily.

Dean reached out to cup Cas’s cheek, and for a quick moment Cas thought they were going to kiss; instead, Dean pulled him closer until their foreheads were touching and they stayed there, breathing in each other’s air. 

“Thank you, Cas,” Dean whispered, then pulled away. He stood with a wince at his sore knees, then held out the hand not currently covered in come to help Cas stand as well. In an instant, he had washed his hands and drained the tub, and he helped Cas step out onto the mat before adjusting his own underwear and jeans, and pulling off his sticky shirt with a grimace. 

“Towels?” he asked kindly, and Cas pointed to the sink. 

“Under there.”

Dean reached in and pulled out the fluffiest, softest towel he could find, and immediately began to dry Cas off. When he was satisfied, he wrapped the towel around Cas’s shoulders and led the way to his bedroom.

“Dress in something comfortable. I know you don’t want me picking out clothes, so I won’t. But I do want you to be warm and cozy,” Dean grinned at him with those words, and Cas smiled back. “And can I borrow a shirt?”

“Of course,” Cas replied, and he dug them out some clothes from his dresser. He threw on his pair of well-worn sweats and a t-shirt advertising the best subs in Philadelphia, and tossed Dean his favorite cotton shirt, emblazoned with a logo for some band he’d never heard of but was the most comfortable one he owned.

“AC/DC? Great taste,” Dean said, pulling it on and taking Cas by the hand, leading him toward the bed.

“I have no idea who they are,” Cas admitted, crawling onto the bed with Dean and allowing himself to be arranged onto his side.

“What? Okay, one of my first jobs as your dom is to teach you what good music is,” Dean settled in behind Cas and wrapped him up tightly. “What kind of teenager didn’t go through an AC/DC phase?”

Cas stilled in Dean’s hold. He hadn’t had the most normal teenage experience, what with Michael’s problems. He supposed it was likely he had heard plenty of music in his time in bars and drug houses, where music tended to be blasted loudly by those inebriated, but his mind hadn’t been on music at the time. It had always been about Michael: where he was, if he was safe, the steps Cas would have to take to always be ahead of those looking for his brother, always questioning if this would be the night Michael took it too far, and what he would say to Mother. Though, in the end, it really made no difference what he had done. It had all been for nothing. As his family tended to remind him, he had failed in the one way a brother never should; he couldn't save Michael.

“Cas?” Dean questioned, and Cas shook his head, squeezing the arm of the man around him.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just thinking.”

“Good thoughts?” Dean teased lightly, worry creeping into his tone.

“I’d rather not discuss it,” Cas’s voice sounded closed off even to his own ears, and he felt Dean pause for a moment behind him before pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Then we won’t,” Dean said, and Cas relaxed minutely in his arms. “You did an awesome job, by the way. You’re incredible.”

And even as Cas’s heart swelled at the compliment, and Dean continued to press soft kisses on his skin and collar, Cas wondered how long it would take before the other man realized that Cas wasn’t incredible at all.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plot, and some porn. Check end notes for specific warnings.

When Cas awoke the next morning, it was to the feeling of a hand gently brushing through his hair, and a pleasant loose-limbed feeling in his body.

“Wha- time s’it?” he mumbled thickly, and Dean gave a deep chuckle.

“Early, but I couldn’t leave without telling you. I’ll work on packing my stuff today after I talk to Sammy. How are you feeling? Anything bad going through that gorgeous head of yours?”

“’M fine,” Cas stretched out lazily.

“Alright. If that changes, if you start to feel off at all, text or call me right away, okay?”

“Yes,” Cas agreed sleepily, head nuzzling his pillow; right now he couldn’t imagine feeling anything but drowsy. 

Dean’s voice was as soft as satin, and Cas rolled over onto his back with his eyes still closed, pursing his lips slightly and preparing for a kiss. Dean’s hand stilled in his hair, and he reached down to cup Cas’s cheek gently before pulling away.

“I’ve got to go. Get some sleep, Cas,” Dean all but whispered, and Cas opened his eyes as the man moved away, adjusting to the dim light in the room just in time to see his bedroom door close behind Dean.

Cas rolled back over onto his side, feeling unsettled. He was trying to work out why, but his brain only reached as far as _Dean_ before the peace of heavy sleep pulled him back under once again.

*

“I really don’t understand why you need me to be there,” Cas pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

“We need a representative from our adjunct faculty, Castiel. I understand that you don’t like conferences, but you’re the closest one to the location, and it’s in your field of interest,” Naomi replied.

Cas let out a quiet groan. He had been having such a pleasant day after Dean had left. Cas had slept in, answered multiple texts from Dean (all assuring him that yes, he was fine), eaten leftover barbeque for lunch, and had settled into the couch with an excellent book, which of course was the moment the head of the English department had called him. Cas couldn’t argue with the fact that the subject matter interested him; the conference was going to be on non-fiction research and writing. He had no real reason to avoid it, though the hour drive to the conference hall wasn’t appealing.

“Fine,” he acquiesced, and Naomi sighed in relief. “When is it?”

“Two weeks from tomorrow. We’ll pay for your gas and food expenses, of course, as well as your hotel room for the weekend. I’ll email you the schedule of events and address.”

“Thank you,” Cas answered, and he and Naomi said their goodbyes. 

Cas had barely ended the call when the phone buzzed in his hand. His heart picked up, thinking it was Dean, but he saw his brother’s name there instead. They hadn’t spoken since the night at the club and the string of texts after it, and Cas found he was happy to hear from him, if for no reason other than to prove he was safe.

“Hello, Gabriel,” he settled back onto the couch and marked his place in the book he was reading. “How are you?”

“Tanned and halfway to drunk off my ass,” Gabriel replied with a laugh. “Why have we never gone to the beach? I’m taking you to the beach someday, Cassie.”

“What are you doing at the beach? Where are you?”

“Aruba. Or maybe Grenada? I can’t remember,” Gabriel slurred his speech slightly, and Cas dropped his head back against the couch.

“How did you get there, and more importantly, do I have to come and get you?”

“Hells no!” Gabriel exclaimed. “I’m here with Kali.”

“The dom you left the bar with?”

“I believe I called her a goddess, actually. The description still fits, by the way,” Gabriel answered, and Cas chuckled, relieved he was safe. “I wanted to call and check in. I know how anxious you get if you don’t hear from me for a few days. Have you been pacing the floor, waiting for me to call?”

“Actually, I hadn’t given it much thought,” Cas replied, surprised at the revelation himself.

Gabriel disappearing wasn’t anything new; he stayed with friends as often as he could when he was in high school, and disappeared completely once he graduated. Cas didn’t see him from the time he was fourteen until the incident when he was seventeen, though with the whirlwind of activity surrounding his second older brother during that time, Cas readily admitted he rarely felt the loss. It wasn’t until after Michael’s death that Gabriel moved back to town (staying with Cas more than in his own apartment), this time for good. A few weeks after Michael’s funeral, Gabriel had gone out to a bar without telling Cas he was going to be out, and the panic of potentially losing his only remaining brother had driven Cas into an anxiety attack severe enough to send him to the hospital. Gabriel arrived home late that evening to find Cas shivering and gasping on the floor, and called an ambulance immediately. He stayed by his side in the hospital overnight and swore to never scare Cas like that again. Cas had been able to ween himself away from daily contact with time, but anything longer than a few days without hearing from Gabriel was generally enough to cause him to have a panic attack.

“You weren’t worried? Cas, that’s…that’s incredible.”

“I hardly think normal human behavior is incredible, Gabriel,” Cas scoffed.

“Don’t try that crap with me. That’s a big change, little bro. What happened?”

“I’ve been busy,” Cas retorted, causing Gabriel to snort.

“Please, you’d spend all day with a book if you could. Wait, was this some sort of self-help book revelation? Some kind of ‘see the ball, be the ball’ mantra?” Gabriel teased, but when Cas didn’t take the bait, he hummed thoughtfully. “Or you’ve met someone.”

“I-what? No, that’s- of course I haven’t, what a ridiculous-”

“Holy shit. You actually _did_. Spill, kid,” a loud slurping sound indicated that Gabriel was sipping a drink. “Come on, Cas. Is he that bad? Oh God, is he bald? He’s totally bald, isn’t he?”

“No! He’s-,” Cas gave an exasperated sigh; his brother could be quite persistent. “Promise you won’t think any less of me for this. I know it would be the pot calling the kettle black as they say, but it could be unexpected.”

“I wouldn’t, Cassie. You know that.”

Cas took a breath. “He’s a dom.”

Gabriel sputtered, clearly choking on his drink and probably spraying it everywhere.

“Is it that shocking?” Cas grumbled, waiting for Gabriel to cough the likely sugary drink from his lungs.

“It’s _hilarious_ ,” Gabriel finally replied. “You think I’d actually be bothered by that? I’m the one who took you to the club, remember? You’re both consenting adults, who cares if you like to get a little freaky in the bedroom. Who is it?”

“Dean Winchester.”

“Dean freakin’ Winchester? You landed the hottest piece of ass in _Sin_? Cas, you have got to teach me your ways. Damn.”

“You know him?” Cas asked.

“Everyone knows him! He’s in the club every weekend, always alone. I’ve never seen him leave with anyone, though. He’s more like an unofficial bodyguard. So how was he?”

“Fantastic,” Cas smiled softly. “He wouldn’t even sign the contract until we both went over it repeatedly.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone

“I’ll have to meet him.”

There was a muffled sound, and Gabriel’s muted voice spoke to another person. 

“I’ve got to go judge the wet t-shirt contest,” he gave an overdramatic sigh. “It’s a rough life. I’ll check in with you in a few days anyway.”

“Thank you, Gabriel. Enjoy yourself.”

“Don’t I always?”

Cas hung up the phone and stared at it in his hand. What was Dean Winchester doing to him?

*

Due to a rather unfortunate mishap at work regarding five year olds, a bumpy bus ride, and a rampant stomach virus, Dean had to put in several hours overtime and wasn’t able to move in until the evening on the following Friday. He and Cas had both managed to get to the health clinic to get tested in the meantime, and were just awaiting a phone call with their results. Cas spent the morning lazily grading papers and impatiently waiting for Dean to arrive. He was reading the paper on the screen in front of him without taking in a word when there was a knock on his door. He swung it open within seconds to reveal Dean, pink faced from the rapidly cooling weather, and carrying two large boxes.

“There’s two more in the car. Just show me where to put these and I’ll go grab them.”

Cas took the boxes out of Dean’s hands instead and led the way to the guest bedroom, down the hall from his and Michael’s rooms. He had insisted Dean have his own space. The room was plain, sparsely decorated with the same dull touch his parents had favored throughout the home, though this particular room seemed to be where they had finally applied some color. Ugly yellow flowers adorned the bedspread and a heavy white dresser sat opposite of it with a somewhat outdated television set perched on top. Cas had washed everything in the room and dusted it well, even going as far as to try and shine the dark wood floor, but the bedroom had been empty for years and had the vacant look associated with an unused space.

“It’s not much-”

“It’s perfect, man. Thank you. Let me grab the other boxes, I’ll be right back.”

Dean set off back toward the car, tutting at Cas when he made to come help him, and Cas heard him prop the front door open. He didn’t want to start putting away Dean’s possessions, but he opened the boxes for him, the packing tape peeling away with an unpleasant crunching. Cas tossed it in the bin and pulled open the cardboard folds. The first box was small and seemed to have little knickknacks, all carefully wrapped in bubble wrap and tucked amongst each other. Cas moved it to the side of the bed without jarring anything and opened up the larger second box. It appeared to be clothing, but as he lifted it to put it on the dresser, a flash of silver caught his eye, and he saw the corner of a photograph. He set the box down and hesitated, then picked up the picture with a gentle touch.

The frame must have been beautiful at one time, but it certainly wasn’t now. The edges of the metal were warped with one corner missing entirely, and the glass was cracked neatly across the dated photo. It showed a beautiful woman, her arms wrapped around the neck of a little boy with messy blonde hair and twinkling green eyes as they both sat in the same armchair with a book open in front of them. Cas found himself smiling at the look of happiness on their faces and practically jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking through your things-”

“Whoa, breathe Cas. I know you weren’t. You don’t have to be so nervous around me, alright?” he brushed fingers across Cas’s cheek, then looked down at the picture. “That’s me and my mom.”

“She’s beautiful,” Cas replied, and Dean grinned.

“Yeah, she was. Smart as hell, too. She used to sit in the living room and do crossword puzzles for fun while Sammy napped. Mom would sit me in her lap and ask me to help her,” he laughed. “And I’d just say the stupidest thing, but she’d write it in anyway, like it was the right answer. God knows how many crossword books I screwed up.”

Cas glanced up at Dean, who was gazing at the picture with complete contentment, eyes crinkled in the corners with his smile.

“You must take after her,” Cas said, and Dean wrenched his eyes back to Cas. “Intelligent and kind.”

Dean took the photo and placed it on the dresser, shrugging.

“Nah. She was a much better person than I am,” he replied, rushing on when Cas made to interrupt. “I’m starving. Want me to order a pizza?”

“Oh, uh, yes. That sounds great. Pepperoni?”

“You read my mind.”

Dean abruptly left the room and Cas followed behind him, watching curiously from the couch as Dean picked up the phone to call in their order. Dean had clearly built up walls around certain aspects of his life, and Cas couldn't exactly call him out on it; he had done the same thing. Besides, the two of them were only...friends? Cas wasn't entirely sure what to call them. He certainly enjoyed Dean's company in more ways than one, and wasn't about to risk whatever this was by being nosy.

As soon as he was done, Dean joined Cas on the sofa and settled his arm around the back of his shoulders.

“They said about twenty minutes. It takes thirty for them to get to my place. I knew moving in to a good neighborhood would have benefits.”

“The truth comes out,” Cas elbowed him in the ribs. “This was all a clever ruse to get faster delivery.”

“You caught me,” Dean put his hands up. “Though this was a big perk too.”

He leaned in to mouth along Cas’s neck until the man tilted his head to the side with a groan. Dean grinned against the skin and slid his hand underneath Cas’s shirt and up the smooth, soft skin to play with his nipples, shoving his shirt up to bunch under his armpits. With a gentle push, he maneuvered Cas down onto his back on the couch and crawled up his body slowly before dropping his head back to suck a sensitive spot onto Cas’s neck. Cas hummed and slid his fingers up Dean’s sides, inching the shirt up to feel his warm skin. The gentle touch caused Dean to shiver and he rolled his hips down, moving his attention back to Cas’s chest. 

“Do you want to start now, Castiel? Are you going to be my good little sub?” Dean asked between flicks of his tongue to the other man’s nipples.

“Yes,” Cas breathed out, sucking in a sharp breath when Dean bit down on the sensitive nub. “Yes _sir_!”

“Once you put that collar on, you’re all mine,” Dean punctuated the last two words with a rock of his hips. “Day and night. You belong to _me_.”

Cas was hard and leaking in his jeans, letting out tiny whimpers he normally wouldn’t produce until he was much further along in this process, but there was something about Dean. The way he spoke in the moment was hypnotic, and his body undulated with raw desire. His touches were like molten rock, hands sliding over every inch of Cas’s exposed chest, his body in constant motion with rolling hips and flicks of his wet tongue against Cas’s skin. Cas slid his hands up Dean’s back and grasped at the strong muscles there to ground himself.

Dean lifted his head to look Cas in the eyes, stilling his movements. Cas let out an impatient sound and rolled his hips up, but Dean didn’t move. Instead, he stared down at him and licked his lips.

“Please tell me you want this. Tell me you’re ready to be my sub.”

Cas gave a desperate moan. Wasn’t that clear enough? He was practically writhing like a cat in heat under Dean’s body, his dick painfully hard. They had discussed this repeatedly, even signed a contract. Cas didn’t think it could be any more obvious that he was a willing participant.

“I’m ready.”

An animalistic noise escaped Dean’s throat, and he lay his head back down on Cas’s chest, hips beginning to roll in a delicious grind that had Cas tilting his head back and moaning. Dean licked up his neck and to his ear, nibbling on his earlobe while his hot breath fanned out wetly onto Cas’s skin.

“Going to take such good care of you,” he whispered lowly, then set back up on the couch. “Go to your room and take off your clothes. Then bring me your collar.”

Cas rose on unsteady legs and chanced a quick glance backward at Dean before heading to the stairs. The man was sitting on the couch, legs spread wide and a hand working over himself languidly through his jeans. He sent Cas a wink, and the other man swallowed, heading up the stairs to his room.

He swiftly undressed and lay the clothes in a neat pile at the edge of his bed, then grabbed the leather collar off of his dresser, thumbing over the soft material. He had been the one in control for far too long. It was a liberating feeling to hand the reins over to someone else. Cas ran a hand through his hair and immediately turned to walk back down the stairs, eager to hand over the collar.

Dean was still wearing his jeans, head tilted back in pleasure while he ground his palm against his length through the thick material. Cas came to his side and dropped at once onto his knees in front of Dean, holding out the collar in his hand and resting his head on the man’s leg, nuzzling there. As soon as he felt him, Dean sat up and gently cupped Cas’s face.

“Such a good boy,” Dean cooed, taking the collar and snapping it into place around Cas’s lithe neck. “ _Mine_.”

He practically growled the word and Cas nodded emphatically.

“Yours, Master.”

Dean pulled Cas into his lap and thrust his clothed erection upward, hands moving to Cas’s perfect ass to squeeze it tightly. Cas gasped and rolled his hips slowly, dropping his forehead to the other man’s and leaning in, desperate to taste his lips. Dean dropped his head instead and sucked a blooming mark onto Cas’s collarbone, then flipped him over onto the couch, positioning himself between his legs. He licked his own hand, causing Cas to let out a whimper, then wrapped it around Cas’s dick, stroking slowly and evenly with his palm twisting just so at each upward pass.

A sudden knock on the door startled Cas, but Dean continued to stroke him.

“Your turn, Castiel. Keep on stroking your cock just like this while I get the pizza. Do _not_ come.”

Cas’s hand was halfway to his own dick before he realized the situation. Given the layout of the room, once Dean opened the door, it would be the only thing blocking Cas’s naked, flushed body from the view of a total stranger. If he so much as took a step in the door, the pizza man would see him looking utterly debauched.

Dean stood, and Cas instantly made his decision. He put his hand around himself and started to jerk off at the same slow pace Dean had set. Dean smirked at him with his hand on the doorknob.

“Good boy,” he repeated, and opened the door.

Cas kept his slow speed, pulsing his hips up occasionally to meet his hand while Dean talked and laughed with the pizza man. He seemed to be taking his time, counting out the money and exchanging small talk with the young man obscured from Cas’s view. 

“Aaron! I didn’t know you worked,” Dean spoke easily, as though nothing was going on just out of view.

“Yeah, I’m putting this toward tuition. The less student loans I have to get, the happier I am,” a young man’s voice replied. 

The pleasure danced up Cas’s spine; he could get caught like this. All it would take would be for Dean to lose focus for just a moment, and the stranger could walk in the room. Cas curled his toes on the couch and bit his lip to stifle a moan, hand working over himself slow enough to give pleasure, but nowhere near the speed he needed to get off. His mind slipped away from the conversation going on nearby, and he slid a hand up his body to give a sharp tug to his hair. The spike of pain caused him to nearly gasp out, and he closed his mouth at the last second to prevent the noise escaping. He slid the hand down to slip two fingers past his lips, using his tongue to lick between them and encircle them. Eyes sliding closed, he focused on the slick drag against his fingertips, and the insistent pleasure building in his abdomen, not quite able to crest.

“God, look at you,” Dean’s voice breathed, and Cas opened his eyes to see the door shut and Dean holding a pizza box.

Cas writhed on the couch and Dean nearly threw the pizza onto the table in his haste to get back between Cas’s legs, hurriedly unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them and his boxers off before batting Cas’s hand away and leaning over him to grind their dicks together.

“You want to come, angel?” Dean sounded wrecked and he sped up his thrusts with a grunt.

Cas moaned around his fingers, the nickname taking him by surprise. He sucked his fingers like he could somehow taste Dean’s cock instead and thrust his hips up to feel Dean slide against him, their precome smearing against their stomachs and dicks and making everything deliciously smooth. 

“I asked you a question,” Dean said, not even slowing down when he pulled Cas’s fingers out of his mouth. “Are you ready to come?”

“Y-yes _please_ , sir!” Cas licked at his lips. 

“Then come for me, Castiel.”

Dean took Cas’s spit covered fingers into his own mouth, licking around them. Knowing Dean could taste him was just as erotic as the sight of those plump lips around his digits, and the feeling of a tongue wrapping itself around his fingers threw Cas into his orgasm. Splashes of hot come shot onto his chest and he reached to grasp at Dean’s shoulders, squeezing hard. Cas shouted out and bowed his back even as Dean continued to thrust against him, riding out the feeling until he collapsed back down, sated and exhausted, his fingers falling from Dean’s mouth. He heaved in breaths and hardly moved when Dean sat up to jerk himself off, though he watched the gorgeous man’s body move in desperation.

“So fucking beautiful when you come,” Dean stared down at him, hand rapidly moving over his own thick cock. “Wish I could taste you.”

Cas grinned crookedly and slid his fingers through his own cooling release before putting them to his lips and using his tongue to suck it off slowly. He smeared some on his lips and made a show of licking them clean. Dean’s eyes widened and he tensed, his come spilling on Cas’s stomach while he gave a low moan, doubling over and fucking into his hand until he was spent. He rested his head in the crook of Cas’s neck until he could breathe again, then slowly sat up.

“Holy shit, Cas,” he grinned lazily at him and reached for some napkins to clean them up. “I hit the sub lottery. You’re some kind of sex god.”

Dean lay down on the couch, half on top of Cas, and held him close, heart still thudding rapidly.

“You trusted me back there. I pushed you out of your comfort zone and you just kept going. You’re incredible, angel.”

Cas hummed happily and turned sideways to rest his head under Dean’s chin.

“I like when you call me that. Angel. It makes me feel…safe.”

Dean stilled and Cas was momentarily afraid he’d said something wrong. Then he felt the unmistakable feeling of a kiss being placed on top of his head.

“You’re always going to be safe with me, Cas. I promise,” he said quietly, then pressed on. “Are you feeling alright? I need to get some juice in you, and a blanket. Will you be okay if I leave for just a second?”

“Yes, sir,” Cas grinned and rolled back over. “Though if I don’t get some pizza in my body soon, you may have a revolt on your hands.”

“I think I could rein you in,” Dean winked and sat up to throw his boxers back on. “Give me less than two minutes.”

With that, Dean hurried out of the room. True to his word, he was back within minutes carrying a fleece blanket and a large glass of orange juice. 

“Pizza time!” he exclaimed happily, and as soon as he sat on the couch, Cas slid to his knees on the floor. “What are you doing?”

“I’m your submissive, sir,” Cas looked up at him, puzzled. “I sit below you when we eat, and only eat what you feed me.”

Dean gaped at him for a moment, then promptly dropped down onto the floor beside him. He grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around Cas’s shoulders, then moved the glass of juice closer to him.

“I’ll feed you, if that’s what you want,” Dean said. “But don’t you ever think you’re below me, Cas. You’re my submissive, not my possession. We’re equals here, just in two different positions.”

Cas hadn’t been expecting that, and it caused a flare of something warm to shoot through his stomach. They had discussed food in terms of bedroom use, but Cas had assumed eating meals would mean sitting obediently at Dean’s feet. He had been willing to do that, as he suspected it was simply part of being an around the clock submissive, but it hadn’t been his favorite part of the submissive role. 

“I thought all submissives ate like that,” he admitted.

“Some do. I’m not that into it, but I’ll do it if you want,” Dean opened up the pizza box, and the delicious scent of bread and cheese wafted out into the room. “Do you want me to feed you?”

Cas looked at the mound of greasy cheese and pepperoni, still piping hot, and shook his head.

“No. That seems like a ridiculously bad idea, and a burn waiting to happen.”

Dean laughed and handed Cas a piece of pizza on a napkin, grabbing his own and taking a tentative bite, cursing when the cheesy strings got stuck to his face.

“That’s a good look for you. You should teach your toddler class like that.”

“I have those kids eating out of the palm of my hand. You should see it,” Dean blew on his pizza then took another bite, talking around it. “I actually got Todd to believe he has superpowers.”

“Oh? And what superpower does he have?”

Dean’s cheeks turned a bit pink.

“Don’t laugh. I told him he had the power to read ‘big kid’ books, and he believed me. The kid is reading on a kindergarten level now.”

“That’s fantastic! I wouldn’t laugh at you over that. Just don’t tell them they can fly. That may result in some lawsuits.”

“You should come down some time. They love having guest readers,” Dean finished off his first slice and began his second, handing Cas another one as well.

“I’d enjoy that,” Cas agreed with a smile. “Dean? Can we sit on the couch?”

“I thought you’d never ask. My ass is going to sleep.”

Dean stood, joints popping, and held out a hand to pull Cas up as well. They made themselves comfortable on the couch, pizza box in their laps and flipping on the television to some absolutely terrible show on TLC, though it was hardly watched. Instead, the two talked about everything and nothing, going off on tangents and laughing until their sides ached.

Cas noticed the goosebumps on Dean’s arm about a half hour after the pizza was gone, and covered him up with the blanket as well. They sat that way until it was time for bed, then quietly locked the door and made their way up the creaking steps. Cas said goodnight and ducked into his room with strict instructions to come straight to Dean if he began to feel strange at all. He put on his pajamas and climbed under the patchwork quilt, flipping off the light and turning to look out the window. It was peaceful to sleep in the same house as someone again, to know that he wasn’t alone in the skeleton of a house his family had once called home. Yet Cas couldn’t help but think, as he burrowed under his quilt and began to doze, that his bed felt a little too empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of anxiety/panic attacks, collar usage (will be from now on), and a hint of exhibitionism.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some potentially triggering content. See notes at the end of the chapter for details.

The clinic called with their results Thursday morning, which Cas initially suspected would lead to rampant and kinky sex in one of their bedrooms. However, Dean didn't initiate anything. In fact, even though they were both clean, many of their evenings since Dean had moved in consisted of average behavior Castiel would expect from his siblings, and not necessarily his dominant. On Thursday night, they binge watched several episodes of a truly terrible medical drama, which Cas watched skeptically, eyes narrowed.

"I highly doubt a man could sleep with that many of his coworkers and maintain his job," Cas pursed his lips.

"Oh, come on! Doctor Sexy hasn't had that many flings."

"Isn't that the third person this season? And we're only on episode four. Even ignoring all of the inappropriate behavior they create by slapping a doctor in the hallway, those boots alone are enough to-"

"Those boots make the man, Cas. Besides, they make his ass look good," Dean argued.

"How do boots have any affect on one's ass?"

Doctor Sexy sauntered off screen to presumably hook up with a radiologist in a surgical room, and Cas inclined his head.

"Alright, so they make his ass look good."

Dean nearly laughed himself hoarse.

*

By the end of episode five, Cas was nodding off on the couch. He felt Dean shift beside him and lazily opened an eye to watch him.

"You're tired," Dean said without preamble, and Cas shook his head. "Castiel, don't lie to me. Get up and go to your bedroom. I want you to put on your comfortable pajamas- you know, the ones with the dancing avocados on them that I'm going to throw away one day when you're not looking. Get in the bed. I'll be in to check on you in just a minute."

Cas rose, heart beginning to thud madly in his chest. He and Dean were both clean, and the man was going to come to his bedroom momentarily. With a swift nod, Cas made his way to his room and began to strip with shaking hands. He shivered at the thought of what Dean could do with his hands, with his body. How it would feel to be bared to his core in his own bedroom, open and trusting to his dom, writhing under him while the man pushed inside. Cas hissed when he pulled his pajamas on over his hardening erection, anxiously climbing into his soft bed and situating the blankets around his midsection, resisting the urge to touch himself in favor of allowing Dean to take him apart. A quiet rap at the door caught his attention, and Dean opened it with a slow creak, a cup steaming in his hands.

"I remembered how much you liked that tea that smells like burnt rice," Dean came into the room with a soft smile, sitting on the edge of the bed and handing Cas the mug. "I thought you might like some before bed."

"Oh," Cas's brows raised slightly; this was going quite differently than he had imagined. "Thank you, sir."

"So your students are turning in their first papers on Vonnegut this Saturday?" Dean asked while Cas sipped on the tea. He nodded, and Dean continued. "I'm excited to see what they think. The symbolism in that story is insane."

As Dean continued to talk, Cas realized that sex didn't seem to be on the horizon at all, and moreover, the fact didn't bother him in the least. He found himself relaxing back against the headboard while he and Dean talked about literature and symbolism until the tea was gone and Cas's body felt heavy and warm.

"Time for bed," Dean announced quietly, and Cas didn't even consider debating it.

Dean held up the blankets while Cas shuffled down the bed and rested his head on the pillow, then pulled them up. He didn't tuck Cas in, which had a tendency to make the man feel trapped, but instead pressed the blankets down around him to give him the sensation of being surrounded without the compression. Dean picked up the mug with one hand and brushed Cas's hair off his forehead with the other, fingers carding through the dark strands lightly. Cas let his eyes close with a happy sigh and hardly noticed when Dean flicked the bedside table off.

"Get some sleep, angel," he murmured, hand moving down to thumb at Cas's cheek.

"Yes, sir," Cas mumbled sleepily, causing Dean to chuckle.

Cas was very nearly asleep when Dean removed his hand, and he blinked open his eyes in time to see Dean's dark silhouette framed in the light of his bedroom door. With a click, the door was closed, and light footsteps echoed down to the kitchen. Cas rolled over, peaceful feelings now beginning to fade away. He reminded himself of what this was; Dean was his dominant, not his boyfriend. Despite their shared love of books, the fun they had together, and the doting treatment Dean seemed to enjoy giving to Cas, they were only friends with a sexual agreement. Cas tossed fitfully onto his side and rubbed his face into the pillow, willing away the lingering sensations of Dean's hand in his hair. He hadn't had a friend in years, since Michael's path of self-destruction began, and he could swallow the harsh truth of his lack of relationship with Dean if it meant he still had the man in his life.

*

_Stupid. He should have known this was going to happen, should have convinced Michael to stay away from this transaction. Something hadn't felt right from the moment his brother had mentioned it, and now here he was, cold and beaten, hands untied but useless with their broken bones._

_"Choose, Michael," the thin man sneered at his brother, less than seven feet from him but a world away in this abandoned farmhouse. "The meth or your brother."_

_A hand gripped Cas's shoulder painfully, a glinting needle so close to puncturing his skin. Inside, Cas was sure, was a lethal dose of something cheap and deadly. His concussed head lolled to the side and he gazed at his brother._

_Or at least what remained of him. Gone was the Michael that had begged Cas to go clubbing with him with a fake ID, all smiles and bright eyes. As the drugs had taken over, Michael had disappeared behind track marks and desperation. All that was left now was the addict before him, rubbing his arms at the sight of a needle and licking his dry lips, sores covering his face._

_"How much?" Michael's voice was weak and shaking, eyes darting between the brown bag in the dealer's hand and Cas's barely conscious body. "How much is in there?"_

_"Enough for you to have a taste and to sell the rest," the dealer shrugged. "I'm getting too known around here. The cops look for me. They don't know you from shit. I'm telling you, this is how you make money."_

_"I don't want money," Michael gasped, and Cas held his breath; he was going to be okay, they'd get out of here and he could get Michael treatment- "I just want mine to be free."_

_"Free?" the dealer ticked up a brow. "Yeah, Michael. We could do that, if you're loyal enough."_

_"I am!" his brother shouted, nearly a whine._

_"Prove it. Tell Daniel to kill your brother, and you get your shit for free. You better be a damn good seller."_

_Cas's eyes, clear and terrified, met his brother's across the space. Cas's hands and left leg were badly broken from the way they had been jumped as soon as they entered the building. He looked a mess and he knew it, but even barely hanging on to consciousness, he looked better than his brother. Michael looked at Cas as though he were less interesting than the dusty floor, and in that moment, Cas knew it was over._

_"Kill him," Michael said with hardly a waver, bloodshot brown eyes staring without remorse._

_Cas tensed as best as he could, trying to roll away from the enormous man holding him down, but it was no use. He closed his eyes, certain that he would feel the puncture at any point._

_"Fucking trash!" the dealer shouted, and Cas's eyes jerked open._

_The thin man was kicking Michael in the ribs with all his strength, breaking them easily with steel-toed boots. Michael wailed in agony, but the abuse didn't stop. Cas cried out as a well-aimed kick to his brother's knee let out a deafening crack in the room. The dealer crossed the room in a few strides and jerked the syringe away from the man holding Cas._

_"You useless junkie," the dealer snarled over his shoulder, and Michael looked bewildered at the sudden change. "You think I need people like_ you _to sell for me? Shit, the cops give you a hit and you'd be singing on all of us."_

_He took large strides to get to Michael, knelt down beside him, and grasped his shirt roughly with his hand._

_"You know where my brother is? Dead. Fuckin' dead, shot over some bullshit stolen car, and you were just going to kill your brother for a free score? Pathetic. You want your free shit, here it is."_

_In an instant, the dealer plunged the needle into Michael's neck and shot the entire vial into his system at once. The effects were near instantaneous; Michael clutched at his chest, tearing at it viciously as though he could help his heart beat properly if he could only touch it. He collapsed onto his side, eyes bulging at the drugs running rampant in his system._

_"Michael!" Cas shouted in terror, while the dealer and his friend calmly left the farmhouse, talking between themselves like it was a typical day; Cas supposed for them, it was._

_Cas couldn't stand; he could hardly stay awake. His hands were useless, but Michael needed him. His brother was foaming at the mouth and twitching, eyes watery and turning blood red when capillaries burst from the pressure of it all. He looked as though his veins and eyeballs were going to be next. Cas pulled his broken body across the floor using his forearms, crying out in pain throughout it, until he was within feet of Michael._

_At that moment, all the movement stopped._

_"No," Cas sobbed, dragging himself the rest of the way with ominous cracks from his already shattered bones. "No!"_

_He knew it was too late even as he reached him. He had no phone, no way of getting out of here with his injuries, but it was all pointless. Cas held out a mangled hand to grasp at his dead brother._

_But then Michael's mouth was moving, and Cas stared in horror. Blank, dead eyes stared up at him as words fell one after the other, in Michael's voice but worse, monotonous._

_"Your fault, Castiel. You couldn't even keep me safe. What did Mother think?"_

_"I'm sorry-"_

_"Did the officer who found us blame you? They_ all _did, brother. Mother. Father. Why do you think they vanished? Your fault. You killed me, Castiel. You murdered me."_

_"No!" Cas screamed, and his brother's face grinned up at him, dead eyes sunk back in his head._

_"Why would Dean want you? Why would anyone want_ you _, Castiel? Worthless. Weak. You couldn't keep me alive. You couldn't keep Mother and Father from leaving. Dean will leave you too. You don't deserve anyone."_

_"Stop!" Cas sobbed, his brother's face blurring. "Shut up!"_

_"I thought you were my guardian angel," Michael sneered. "Pathetic angel."_

_"I tried! I tried to save you! You fucking asshole, I tried!"_

_"Angel..."_

"No!"

"Angel! Cas, wake up!" Dean's voice was practically shouting, and Cas wrenched himself awake, confused, chest heaving and feeling like he couldn't breathe.

"I tried so hard," he gasped, eyes wide with panic and hands shaking madly. "I tried, Michael, please don't hate me! Don't let Dean hate me!"

"Shh, Cas, it's alright. You're safe now, you're here with me, remember?" Dean gripped Cas's hand tightly. "Calm down, angel. Please, calm down."

Dean? Yes...yes, he wasn't back in the farmhouse. He was here with Dean, safe. He tried to calm his breathing, but his body had gone into a full panic attack. He sucked in lungfulls of air, never feeling like it was enough, and his hands tingled and shook.

"Can't," he wheezed. "Panic...attack. Dean...Dean, _help_."

"What can I do?" Dean asked at once.

"Hold...me...please...Tell...me...I'm...okay."

Dean wrapped his arms around Cas immediately, holding him close and rocking back and forth slightly.

"Remember what I told you, angel?" he whispered against Cas's ear. "You're always safe with me. Nothing is going to happen to you as long as I'm here, I promise."

Dean whispered promises to Cas while he held him close until Cas's heartbeat finally returned to normal and the panic attack passed, leaving him feeling utterly exhausted. He shakily leaned his head back away from Dean.

"Thank you," he said ashamedly, dropping his gaze. Dean had to come save him from a nightmare like some child afraid of a thunderstorm. He _was_ weak and pathetic.

"Hey, don't do that," Dean tilted the other man's head up with his hand and softly began to wipe away the dried tears. "You don't have to thank me. I want to take care of you."

There were a thousand retorts on Cas's tongue, and just as many emotions, but he was too tired to do or say anything else. Instead, he pulled away from Dean and lay back down onto the bed, limbs still shaky and body aching from the memory of his injuries. 

"What do you need me to do?" Dean asked, seemingly unperturbed by the cold shoulder.

In that moment, Cas didn't care if it made him sound pitiful, if Michael's ghostly memory had been yelling the truth, if it was a terrible idea to let his feelings cloud his judgement. He wanted Dean close.

"Stay."

Dean moved at once; he stood and pulled the blankets back, then climbed in next to Cas, curling around his back and wrapping an arm around his waist.

"Is this okay?" he asked, breath tickling the back of Cas's neck, causing a litany of butterflies to explode in Cas's stomach before the truth crashed into him and he remembered his place, not his fantasy.

"Yes, sir."

Behind him, Dean stiffened, then let out a small, sad breath.

"Goodnight, Castiel."

*

Cas awoke the next morning alone and confused, with a raging headache. It took a moment for the memory of the night before to crash into him and he groaned into his pillow. This was why he didn't get involved romantically with anyone, why he wouldn't get involved, especially with Dean. He was broken. He didn't deserve care and affection, or to be treated like he was worth the trouble, and soon enough Dean would see it. _Maybe that's why he wanted to be my dom so badly_ , Cas thought to himself miserably. _He could tell I was worthy of punishment._ Cas turned his pillow over in search of a cool spot, thoroughly downtrodden. Part of him understood it was the effects of the night's events, but his mental state caused him to overlook everything about himself with a critical gaze.

Dean hadn't initiated sex, even though they were both clean. He hadn't done anything more than Cas would expect from a roommate. They hadn't even shared a kiss. That thought sat Cas up in the bed. They hadn't kissed, throughout their entire...arrangement. Was he really that vile? There could be no other excuse, he realized with a sinking feeling. Dean allowed himself pleasure, probably thinking of Cas like a toy, but in reality, he didn't even want to dirty his lips by kissing him.

Cas put a foot on the floor shakily. It had been a terrible idea from the start, to allow himself to get close to someone again, even if it was in a purely sexual context. But it hadn't turned out that way. Instead, Dean had become a companion, someone to watch television with and discuss literature. Someone who took him to amusement parks and who carefully watched him to be sure he got inside his door afterward safely. Cas's eyes welled at the thought of losing Dean entirely. Once he was out the door, Cas would have no one left in this world, save Gabriel, whom he often felt thought of him as a burden. There were no friends, just...Dean. He didn't want to go back to endless nights of solitude, even if it meant taking only what he deserved from the other man. The odds of someone like Dean ever developing feelings toward a person like Cas was laughable, and Cas was content with what he could get.

That was what he'd do. Cas stood, shuffling toward his door. He would be Dean's submissive and nothing more. If Dean wanted to sit and watch television, they would, but Cas would know his place. No more blurring the lines between a relationship (platonic or otherwise) and sex. It was one or the other, and since Dean clearly wanted him for sex, that would be the one he would choose. He steeled himself, then walked down the stairs and into the kitchen, lowering his eyes at once when he walked in, and reminding himself that even if Dean were to ever miraculously care for him, he was undeserving of anything he had to offer.

"Morning!" Dean greeted him with a small smile. "I thought I'd make you some pancakes. It's a specialty of mine. Sam probably ate enough of 'em growing up to build a house."

"Thank you," Cas replied curtly, only sitting when Dean indicated the chair.

"Well, you going to eat?" Dean asked, sitting down with his own pile and covering them with syrup.

"Yes, sir," Cas answered him, earning a curious look from Dean, who soldiered on.

"So, I figured since that tea you drink is Korean, you probably like the food too. I checked, and there's this Korean place about twenty minutes from here. I thought we could grab some dinner tonight, maybe see a movie or something?"

Cas chanced a look up at Dean. The man was looking at him across the table, green eyes wide and full of hope, and curse him, Cas wanted more than anything to say yes. He cared about Dean, and wanted to see where it could lead. He wanted to go out in public with Dean, hold his hand, kiss him on the street just like a couple would do. And that is precisely why he couldn't.

"I have papers to look over," Cas said in a cool tone. "I don't have time to go tonight."

"Oh," Dean's eyes shuttered and he sat back, looking down at his plate. "Yeah, alright."

They finished their meal in silence, and Cas sat with his hands in his lap at the end.

"May I clean up?" he asked and Dean took a breath.

"Why are you asking?"

"Because you're the one in control here, sir."

"Cas, what-" Dean tried to ask, but Cas fixed him with a pointed look. "Of course you can, but why-"

"Thank you," Cas replied, and he stood to clean up, Dean hovering close behind.

Once done, he grabbed his laptop and opened it at the dining room table, committing himself to his papers. Dean quietly disappeared to another room, emerging soon after dressed and toeing on his shoes. 

"You need anything from town?" he asked, and Cas glanced up at him over the top of his laptop.

"No, sir."

Dean pursed his lips but nodded, heading out the door with a jangle of keys.

Cas was halfway through Charlie's paper when a text message buzzed on his phone.

**You know, a dom's job is also to listen when you need it.**

Cas sat the phone down and kept working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for: drug use, needles, death, murder, anxiety, panic attacks.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some serious triggers in this chapter. Please read the tags and the end notes if you think you could be affected.

Cas kept up the role of loyal, total submissive for the next several days, avoiding Dean nearly completely on Sunday and relaxing only when Dean slipped out the door with a quiet "see you after work, Cas" on Monday morning. It felt off, wrong, and though he was unworthy of Dean's attention, he was worried. He was giving Dean what he had asked for in the first place, so why did it feel like he was still letting him down?

Mornings were blessedly short, but evenings were practically unbearable; Dean hadn't touched Cas since the nightmare, and his orders as a dom had taken a different turn as well. Instead of sexual favors, Dean kept having Cas do innane tasks. Monday night had been the request to take a warm bath and sit on the couch with Dean to watch Star Wars. Tuesday, Dean had requested Cas to do the same, only this time he brought down a warm blanket and made him another cup of his favorite tea. Each day, Dean insisted Cas allow him to make dinner, and each day, Cas maintained a stoic and respectable silence. He spoke only when spoken to and followed Dean's instructions perfectly, but instead of making Dean happy, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Every night during whatever movie or show Dean was watching, he'd nudge Cas and grin at certain parts, or make jokes. He'd ask Cas questions, and Cas would have to bite back the witty responses he had, forcing himself to remember his place. 

_I'm not his friend, I'm just his toy,_ he repeated in his head. _Know your place._

By the time Dean left for work on the Thursday before Cas's conference, Cas didn't feel like getting out of bed. Dean had called out a half-hearted goodbye, which Cas had pretended not to hear. Instead, he fell back into a fitful sleep, dreaming of bulging eyes and mocking words. Each nightmare would jerk him awake in terror, his heartrate calming only when he realized where he was. Then his mind would turn back to the downward spiral he found himself in with Dean and he'd lay his head back down, unwilling to face getting out of bed and instead allowing himself to fall back into the nightmares.

When the phone rang at three that afternoon, Cas blinked awake long enough to notice Gabriel's name and silence his ringer, then promptly rolled back over.

*

"Cas?"

Dean's worried voice called through the house, pulling Cas out of his dreams and into reality. His first instinct was to answer and he sat up in the bed abruptly, then closed his mouth. If Dean needed something from him, he knew where to find him. Cas heard hurried footsteps up the stairs right before his bedroom door was flung open, revealing Dean in his work clothes and a harried expression on his face. He crossed the room in two enormous strides and to Cas's surprise, sank down onto the side of his bed and threw his arms around him.

Now that he was closer, Cas could see Dean looked awful. His skin was sweaty and clammy, eyes wide with fear and a hint of relief, and his hands were shaking. Dean mouthed wordlessly for a moment then pushed himself up and out of the bed, away from Cas's touch.

"Do you know how many times I tried to call you today? I was already freaking out enough because you've been so- so _weird_ these past few days, and I was thinking I'd done something to piss you off," Dean started pacing and Cas swung his feet over the side of the bed, watching curiously. "Then I get a call from your brother, saying he can't get hold of you and you never ignore his calls-"

"You talked to Gabriel?" 

"I guess so, he wasn't too big on names," Dean said sarcastically. "All I know is he called me at work, said he was worried, and said you'd acted this way back before you...you hurt yourself."

Shame wormed itself through Cas's chest and mixed with humiliation and fear.

"You had no right to discuss any of that with Gabriel."

Dean stopped pacing and stared at Cas.

"Are you kidding me right now? I thought you were _hurt_. Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell _you_?" Cas shouted, on his feet at once. "Why the hell would I tell you about that? It's none of your damn business!"

"Oh, but it's my business when you wake up screaming and need someone to help you? Why can't you just talk to me?"

"You're my dom, Dean! You get off on beating me up and holding me down. I'm not your friend, I'm your sex toy."

"That's not true," Dean replied sharply. "None of that is true. I want you to be honest with me-"

"Like you're so honest with me," Cas scoffed. "Why haven't I been to your house? What happened to your mom?"

Dean's eyes widened and his face hardened.

"Fuck you."

"If only you would," Cas snarled, grabbing his duffel off the floor and cramming in the last few necessities for the convention he had yet to pack.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Leaving?" Dean's voice was cold, and Cas laughed.

"I have a convention in Springfield. I think I'll head down a day early. Enjoy your break from your terrible sub, _sir_. Maybe you can find a better one while I'm gone."

It was a lie, and Cas felt his stomach drop at the very thought of Dean finding anyone else, but he spun on his heel and stomped down the stairs before he could take it back. Cas fished his keys out of the bowl and grabbed his jacket, slamming the door behind him. It wasn't until he was in his car with his head dropped onto the steering wheel that the allowed himself to cry. 

He had been terrible to Dean. The man had rushed home, scared of what he'd find, and Cas had treated him little better than dirt. He knew he should go back up and apologize for everything that he'd said, but a niggling voice in the back of his mind reminded him that it was better this way. Now he and Dean could forget about a friendship and focus instead on getting each other off. No feelings, no emotions. Dean was far too caring and good to be tied down with Cas's baggage. He was poison. Dean knew that now, thanks to-

Shit, he needed to call his brother. Thank God he'd thrown his phone in the duffel before leaving. But he didn't dare call him yet. He needed to get away from here and onto the road before he gave in and ran back to Dean, confessing all the things he knew he couldn't have.

Cas sighed and started his car.

*

"What the fuck was that bullshit?"

"Hello to you too, Gabriel," Cas pinched the bridge of his nose.

He had made it to Springfield in a little over an hour and found his hotel. Checking in a day early meant he had to pay for the first night himself, but the room was spacious and airy. The linens were clean and the walls shone bright and cheery with a yellow hued paint. It was a direct opposite to Cas's state of mind, and he found it grating. Upon check-in, Cas had thrown his duffel on the bed and decided to call Gabriel straight away. He had stared at the twenty missed calls from Dean from earlier that day with a twinge of guilt, then dialed his brother.

"I thought you were dead. I scared the shit out of your boyfriend."

"He's not my-" Cas began, then realized it was a conversation he very much did not want to have. "How did you find his number?"

"Kali called down to Sin and said it was an emergency. They know her better than me, and gave it up...what happened?"

"Just your every day psychotic crap," Cas sat down on the edge of the bed and toed off his shoes. "You know how it is. Mental patient starts dreaming of his dead brother saying cruel things. Not that they weren't true."

"Cas," Gabriel's voiced softened. "None of that was your fault. Mom and Dad put too much on you, expecting you to fix it when they should've done something."

"I was there," Cas said quietly. "Every step of the way. And I let it happen. I killed our brother, Gabriel."

"Michael killed himself, Cassie," Gabriel replied. "And I'm watching you do the same thing."

"Cutting myself wasn't a suicide attempt," Cas spat, and Gabriel sighed.

"It wasn't a healthy way to deal with your emotions. It was dangerous, it could have escalated-"

"It wasn't your place to tell him!"

"I didn't tell him anything!" Gabriel shouted back, taking a calming breath. "All I said was that you had hurt yourself before. Believe me, I would've elaborated, but the next thing I hear is him in near hysterics, telling his boss he has to leave right away. Then he hung up. He cares about you, kiddo."

"I'm just something to get him off."

"No one freaks out like that over a fuck buddy."

"Drop it," Cas said sharply. "He doesn't want any more from me. Even if he did, I'm not worth it."

"Cas-"

Cas hung up the phone before he could finish.

*

The evening passed in a haze; Cas ordered room service and ate it in relative silence. At one point he considered trying to take a shower in hopes of calming himself enough to sleep, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was afraid of the nightmares and the truth he would find in them. Instead he lay on the bed, mindlessly watching as late night television faded into informercials, and jerking his eyes open the moment he noticed them closing.

Morning dawned slow and bright, illuminating the room's cheerful colors into an even more infuriating state. Cas hadn't moved in hours. He lay in the mockingly comfortable bed with his ankles crossed, staring at the television without comprehending what he was watching, eyes puffy and red-rimmed with bags heavy underneath. It wasn't until his alarm rang that he even moved, and even then he only managed to sluggishly turn it off before sitting up. He thought of Dean, how he awoke in the morning and puttered around Cas's kitchen as if he had always been a fixture in his life, how his foot jiggled excitedly when his favorite part of a movie came on, how he threw his head back and laughed with his entire body when Cas said something he found funny. His chest ached at the thought of Dean alone in Cas's house, abandoned by his sub, but it positively twinged with pain when his mind wandered to Dean back at his own house, domming someone else in Cas's absence. He shook his head and brought his focus back to the present. Excited early-morning hosts rambled on during some obnoxious show, and Cas stared at his feet until he worked up the strength to swing them over the bed and throw on some fresh clothes.

Time seemed to pass in an odd state. It crept at a snail's pace, then great chunks moved by in what seemed like an instant. Cas functioned on autopilot, taking a notebook, pen, and his schedule down to the lobby and hailing a taxi to the convention center, avoiding talking to anyone he met. He wasn't unaware of their questioning glances, however, though he rushed by people and hurried to his seat in the largest conference room. As people trickled in to the first session, they gave him a wide berth, and whispered amongst themselves at his disheveled state. He didn't so much ignore them as he simply didn't care. 

The opening statements didn't hold his attention, and he only half-heartedly applauded the introduction of their speaker. Cas was cognizant enough to recognize the man's skill as an orator. He spoke with passion about the importance of thorough research on writing topics, spending several minutes regaling them with stories of ill-researched projects, bringing the room to laughter on historical inaccuracies in film and books, before moving on to the details of researching non-fiction, and the best resources to use. It was exceptionally interesting, and Cas found himself relaxing minutely as the morning's lecture wore on.

Cas didn't realize the possible dangers of a subject like this in his current mental state until it was too late.

The presenter changed slides to give examples, and Cas's pulse quickened when he saw the title: _Researching Drugs and Medicine_. He sucked in a breath, panic beginning to overtake him. _Calm down_ , he begged himself. _It's nothing, it's medical_. He tried to distract himself, tapping a pattern with his pen until a woman shot him a filthy look over her shoulder. Cas grimaced at her, sweating now, and began to count backwards from a hundred by threes, anything to distract himself. It soon became clear, though, that the speaker wasn't only discussing medical prescription drugs.

"Writers must be aware of their topic," he spoke calmly, unaware that a man was shaking to pieces a few rows back. "And the best practice I can give you in research is in drugs. And why is that? Surely, you'd argue, we all know of narcotics. And this is true! But how many of you could tell me, for example, what happens to the human body from an overdose? The chemical processes, the physical reactions. I daresay few of you could."

Cas's hands were sweating and he desperately tried to block the speaker out, thinking of something, anything, else. Not of Michael's bulging veins and dead, sunken eyes.

"That's why research is important. On the surface, we may have a basic understanding, but we cannot allow ourselves to be fooled by general knowledge. We must dig deeper, delve into the unknown and use it to our advantage as non-fiction writers. Our very field is dedicated to research! Now, let's look at some excellent medical resources."

The speaker droned on, but Cas couldn't process it anymore. His mind flew into overdrive, imagining the speaker bringing up a page on overdosing, displaying the dead, pathetic body of some junkie. Logically, he knew it wouldn't happen, but his brain forced the idea. He pictured vacant eyes, yellowed and lifeless, and nails chewed to the quick with desperation. Hollowed cheekbones and rotted teeth.

He had to get out of here, had to run, had to go. Out, out, _out_ , people were looking but he had to get OUT NOW. 

Cas didn't stop running until he was out of the conference room, away from the building, and utterly lost in a city he had been to a dozen times. His panic was still flared, pulse racing and eyes wide, but he hailed a taxi and breathlessly gave the address to the hotel he was staying in. The taxi driver, either immune to utter insanity by now or uncaring of it as long as he got paid, nonchalantly dropped Cas off at the hotel minutes later. Cas threw his fare into the front seat and took off toward his room, desperate for quiet. The elevator was too slow; after pressing the button ten times, he gave a sob and ran for the stairs, pounding up them until he reached his floor and fumbling for the key to get into his room.

Once inside, he stopped. The sounds of the city were audible but muted here, the television still on from earlier. The bright, cheery room surrounded him on all sides, pressing in tighter and tighter until the yellow of the walls was glaring off his skin, lighting him up when all he wanted was dark. And then Cas was moving. He swept his arm across a table, causing the information booklets and a lamp to go flying to the floor with a clatter. It wasn't enough, not near enough, and he kept up his rampage, flipping the chairs and throwing books, his duffel bag, anything he could reach. One of the chairs caught the electric outlet and unplugged the television, plunging the room into near silence, and Cas threw himself onto the bed, utterly exhausted.

_Useless. Pathetic. Killed your own brother with your worthlessness._

Michael's voice was loud in his head and he covered up with a pillow, screaming into the mattress until his throat was raw, finally blacking out. The nightmares began at once, waking him in fear, and soon Cas couldn't tell when he was asleep and when he was awake. He dreampt of exploding veins and desperate pleas, of his cell phone and cooking shows. He spoke to Michael, who sat on the edge of the bed and called him names. He laughed at Gabriel, standing in the corner and making faces, who morphed into Dean with a kind smile on his face.

"Dean," he whispered when he saw him. "Dean..."

Then, quite suddenly, he heard a knock. The room was dark now, black save for the light seeping in from the city, and Cas stood on weary feet. He slung open the door and laughed maniacally. Oh, this dream was perfect. 

"Cas?" Dean stood before him, looking confused and scared.

"Come in!" Cas waved his arm dramatically, and Dean walked into the room warily, flinching when Cas slammed the door shut. "So, what's this dream going to be? Do I have to see you die too?"

"Cas, you're scaring me here," Dean took a step toward him, pausing when he heard glass crunch under his foot. "What the hell happened?"

Cas didn't answer, choosing instead to stare at Dean, who flipped on a light and gasped both at the state of the room and Cas's ghastly appearance.

"Oh, angel," his face crumpled, and he reached out to Cas, barely brushing his shoulder, but causing him to jump as though he'd been electrocuted.

"Real," he breathed, catching Dean's hand with his own shaking one and holding it tight enough to hurt. "You're here. I felt that. You're really _here _."__

__"Yeah, Cas. You called me, remember?" Dean said hesitantly, not daring to move his hand._ _

__Cas didn't, but it was the least of his worries at the moment. He folded in on himself, dropping to his knees on the floor, sobs racking his body. Dean was beside him at once, arms warm and strong around him while he rocked the broken man gently._ _

__"I'm sorry, so sorry," Cas spoke jaggedly between sobs, and Dean hushed him, holding him tight._ _

__"Shh, angel. I'm here now, you're going to be okay," he whispered into Cas's hair, and though he was shaking, his voice was strong. "Breathe, Cas. Just focus on matching my breaths."_ _

__Cas forced himself to listen to Dean's chest, at the rhythmic sound of his heart and the calming whoosh of air moving in and out of his lungs. He copied the pattern as best as he could, Dean's hands an ever-present weight on his body. Cas was cocooned in warmth and safety, and gradually his breathing became normal. He relaxed into Dean's touch, and the other man kissed his head gently._ _

__"There, you're doing so well," Dean hummed. "I'm going to get you off the floor and onto the bed, okay?"_ _

__Cas nodded weakly, and Dean helped him to stand. He shouldered most of Cas's weight and helped him sit on the bed. Cas's body ached and felt heavier than should be possible, but he was no longer shaking._ _

__"Let's get you in some pajamas. You'd feel better after a shower, but I don't think you're up for it right now."_ _

__Dean waited for Cas's nod of approval, then set about to getting him as comfortable as possible. Cas helped where he was able, but Dean did everything he could, from slipping off Cas's shoes and socks to gently nudging Cas when he needed him to shimmy into his pajama bottoms. Once he was dressed, Dean helped Cas get under the blankets, which caused an immediate flare of worry._ _

__"Don't leave," Cas spoke for the first time in nearly an hour with a raspy voice. "The nightmares..."_ _

__"I'm not going anywhere," Dean said with a calming smile. "But I have to take some of my own clothes off. I'll stand right beside you and do it, then I'll get in the bed. I promise."_ _

__Cas watched Dean undress methodically, down to an undershirt and boxers. He turned the light off and climbed into the bed beside Cas, who rolled over to face him._ _

__"How do I know this isn't another nightmare?" he asked, his voice sounding small and scared._ _

__Dean brought a hand up to cup Cas's face. He swallowed thickly, then pressed the barest of kisses to Cas's dry lips. Cas raised his fingers to his mouth and let out a small sigh of relief._ _

__"It's real. I'm here," Dean whispered, holding Cas close as he nuzzled into him and began to fall into an exhausted sleep at once. "And there's no world, dream or otherwise, where I'd ever hurt you."_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for:  
> *Panic attack  
> *drug use/overdose (not a main character)  
> *flashbacks/nightmares  
> *psychotic episode  
> *self-harm/cutting
> 
> Cas is very sick, as you can tell. But just like Cas, you don't have to go through mental illness alone. There are plenty of resources out there. If you're struggling with mental illness, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, or just need someone to talk to, you can find numbers and chats here: http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/


	10. Chapter 10

Cas grumbled in his sleep and rolled over. His entire body ached with a bone-deep pain and it dragged him back to consciousness. He hissed when he flopped over onto his side and directly onto his bruised hand, sitting up and blinking against the light flooding his room from the window.

“You okay?” Dean asked from the corner of the bed. He sat cross-legged and facing Cas, looking pale and drawn, his short hair a cow-licked mess and with dark circles under his eyes.

“I should ask the same of you,” Cas replied, not quite able to meet his eyes.

“I’ve had worse,” Dean said shortly, then gave a sigh. “Look, are we going to talk about last night?”

“Do we have to?”

“Yeah, Cas. We do.”

Dean made no effort to edge closer on the bed and Cas realized with a sinking feeling what this talk would entail. Dean was going to call off their arrangement. Cas felt as though vines of ice were gripping his insides tighter and tighter by the moment. This was why he didn’t want to get attached, why he had tried to sever their friendship. This pain was by far worse than any Dean could have ever inflicted upon him as his dom. He closed his mouth and waited.

“Do you know how upset I was yesterday?” Dean finally said.

“I’m sorry,” Cas replied at once. “I know I broke quite a few of our rules. I talked back, I-”

“Cas,” Dean broke in, a look of horror on his face. “I didn’t care about any of that. Fuck the rules, I was worried about you.”

“Why?” Cas asked, bewildered. “I’m your sub, Dean. One of many you’ve had, easily replaceable. I’m just a sex toy.”

He said it with such finality and surety that he even shocked himself. Dean pursed his lips and finally moved up the bed. He didn’t touch Cas; he didn’t even get close enough for the other man to feel his warmth. Instead he ducked his head until Cas looked him in the eye. Dean swept his eyes over the man’s features, as though trying to memorize the blue color of his eyes and the precise contours of his cheekbones, then shook his head sadly, but never once looked away. Instead he chewed his lip and stared until he thought of the words he wanted to say.

“When your brother called me, I panicked. He ranted about how you never ignore his calls and to be honest, I kind of blocked him out. Then he said you had tried to hurt yourself before, and I swear, it was like I froze,” Dean slowly laid himself out on his side beside Cas, still careful to keep his distance. “I hung up on him and left work right away. The whole way to your house, I was imagining what I’d find. And when you didn’t answer when I yelled for you…I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

Dean reached out cautiously and hooked his index finger around Cas’s thumb, his shoulders losing some of their tension when the other man didn’t pull away

“You’re not replaceable. You’re not a sex toy, Cas. You’re…you’re special.”

Cas swallowed down the lump in his throat and covered Dean’s hand with his own. He looked at their entwined fingers while the seconds ticked by. He owed Dean an explanation of his behavior, and in order to do that, he was going to have to talk about the worst night of his life. He didn’t know why he expected to be able to do it. Gabriel had given up years ago. In fact, the only person who knew the entire story was the cop who had found Cas, and only because he had been in shock, willing to tell him anything. But Dean was different. He was kind and gentle, and safe, and Cas believed he could get through his story for him.

“My brother Michael was an addict,” he began slowly, and Dean didn’t interject with shocked noises or pitying faces; he just listened.

Cas spilled the entire story to Dean, unable to stop once he had begun. He expected Dean to recoil at any moment, but he never did. He listened to Cas go through every painful detail of the night Michael had died, letting Cas talk until his tears had dried and his voice cracked.

“I should have been honest,” Cas admitted, his head pounding; he pressed a palm against his temple to try and quell the ache. “I’m a hypocrite. I yelled at you for being secretive when I couldn’t even tell you about my brother. I knew, though. I knew you’d be disgusted with me, see me for what I really am: a failure. I liked being around you, and it was selfish, but I just wanted you.”

Dean had lay in silence beside Cas throughout his story, brow furrowing at certain points and his grip becoming tighter on Cas’s hand, but never saying a word. Cas couldn’t meet his eyes. He stared at the crisscrossing pattern on the sheets instead, waiting for Dean’s inevitable decision to stop their arrangement.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said grimly, and Cas dropped his head down; Dean immediately slipped two fingers under his chin and lifted it back up. “Hey, none of that. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you either, Cas. I didn’t expect it to turn out this way, for me to feel like…well, anything. I-I haven’t dommed for anyone with a contract before.”

Cas tilted his head.

“But you know everything about it.”

“From experience,” Dean sighed. “You deserve to know what I’ve done, especially if we’re going to keep doing this.”

“You want to?” Cas’s heart leapt. “You don’t want to end it?”

“No!” Dean said adamantly. “Unless you do?”

“No,” Cas readily agreed. “I want…”

What _did_ he want? They had clearly crossed some sort of line here, lying in bed together with their fingers interlocked and discussing a painful event. This wasn’t a dom/sub dynamic, and it wasn’t simple friendship. This was intimacy, finding comfort in Dean’s words. Cas didn’t want it to end. He wanted the sexual part of their arrangement and he wanted the friendship too.

“Yeah,” Dean saved him the trouble of continuing. “I want you too.”

Cas gave a tiny smile.

“I thought you didn’t ‘do’ serious,” he said, and Dean’s eyes clouded over.

“You make me want to try,” Dean’s cheeks flushed. “But you need to know the truth about me too. It’s-it’s a long story, Cas. Look, let me take you out today, get your mind off things. I swear I’ll tell you the truth about me tonight. I just need some time to figure out how,” Dean paused. “Then you can decide if I’m even worth the trouble.”

Cas frowned and squeezed Dean’s hand.

“Of course you’re worth-”

“Don’t,” Dean said sharply, sadly. “Don’t say anything until you know what I’ve done.”

He looked broken in that moment, so utterly devastated and hopeless, that Cas wanted to wrap his arms around him and shield Dean from the world. 

“Alright,” Cas conceded. “But you owe me one hell of a date Winchester.”

He nudged him with a wink, and Dean smiled, the tension of the moment broken.

“Yeah, yeah. Get some pants on.”

*

Cas had never understood how his body could flip a switch the way it did. Sometimes after episodes, it would take him days of lying in bed and scarcely moving before he would begin to feel like himself again. However, on rare occurrences, he would wake up the following day feeling exhausted and sore, but otherwise fine. Thankfully, today seemed to be that sort of day. Of course some of that must be attributed to Dean’s presence. He didn’t hover over Cas as he got showered and got dressed, but it was a close thing; he remained within an few feet of him like a beacon, making noise when he had to be out of sight on the other side of the shower curtain so that Cas would know he was still there. All in all, it made for a pleasant morning. Or afternoon, as Cas had slept through the morning in his state of exhaustion. By the time they left their hotel room, the world seemed to be returning to the way it should.

He and Dean made their way downtown on foot, walking a few blocks until they spotted a bakery and Dean made a beeline for it. He and Cas emerged nearly an hour later full of freshly brewed coffee and blueberry muffins. Conversation felt stilted though, and Cas knew it was because Dean was dreading the conversation they needed to have. He looked strained, running his hands through his short hair when he thought Cas wasn’t looking; he kept biting the inside of his lip with such ferocity that Cas believed it to be bleeding. When they passed a run-down theater with a wilted advertisement on the side, Cas slowed to a stop.

“How about a movie marathon?” he asked, and Dean followed his gaze to the peeling movie posters.

“Looks like bad science fiction mov- holy shit, Slaughterhouse Five?”

Cas grinned and grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him toward the entrance. He paid for both their tickets, and he and Dean took a seat in the middle of a dilapidated, archaic screening room. A few other people meandered in, but the marathon didn’t seem to be popular. Cas and Dean stretched their legs out onto the chairs in front of them.

“I’ve never seen the movie,” Dean admitted as the lights dimmed and the projector whirred to life behind them.

“Me either. I thought of you as soon as I saw the poster.”

“I’m a shitty dom,” Dean lowered his voice, eyes resolutely locked on the screen. “You’re having to take care of me, and it’s supposed to be the other way around. Shit, after what you went through last night, I should be-”

“Dean,” Cas murmured, and the other man closed his mouth. “I’m not doing this as your sub. I’m taking care of my friend.”

Dean didn’t reply, instead beginning to chew his lip again. He did turn his hand over on the armrest between them and spread his fingers in a welcome invitation. When Cas slid his own hand down to interlace their fingers, Dean gave it a squeeze and held it throughout the rest of the movie.

*

Several hours (and a handful of truly terrible movies) later, Dean finally conceded that it was time for dinner.

“And we can get it to go, so we can…you know. Talk about stuff.”

They opted for quick and greasy takeout and headed back toward the hotel. The tension seemed to rise with every step until the only sound was the smack of their shoes against the pavement and the shuffling of their clothes. Cas tried to reach out his hand to take the one of Dean’s not currently holding their dinner, but the other man grimaced and shook his head. The last block and subsequent walk to their room was uncomfortable to say the least.

“Dean,” Cas broke the silence when their hotel room door closed behind them. “You don’t have to tell me. If it’s too hard-”

“You need to know. Just try not to hate me.”

Dean picked at his takeout, staring down at it like it would tell his story for him. He drew in a deep breath and shuddered it out before finally talking in a low, resigned voice.

“My mom died when I was four. Mugging gone bad, they think. My dad, he didn’t cope so well. It started out easy enough; he would drink too much at night while we were watching some crappy show in a motel room somewhere. But as Sammy and I got older, it got worse. He pulled us out of schools every few weeks and hopped around from city to city. Sometimes he’d stay gone for days. That went on for- hell, _years_. By the time I was fifteen, I was stealing food for Sam so he could eat. We were camped out in this rundown house. No power, no water, no heat. We hadn’t seen Dad in about two weeks. I don’t know who turned us in, but one day social services was knocking at our door. They took us away the same day. They found a home for Sam really quick, but me? Nobody wanted a fifteen year old with a record.”

He sighed and shoved his food off to the side, uneaten.

“I got passed around from group home to group home, but Sammy went to a real nice couple. They’d always wanted kids and couldn’t have them, and they loved Sam. We wrote to each other all the time, told stories about other foster kids and talked about what we’d do when we got out. But we couldn’t just see each other; the only time we saw each other in person was when they sentenced Dad. They’d found him holed up in some motel, the walls covered with maps and drawings. He said he was hunting the guy that killed Mom. He looked…he looked like hell, honestly. Skinny and with a beard. It was clear he didn’t care about me and Sam, and the judge thought he was nuts, so he sent him to a psych ward to serve his sentence and declared me and Sam wards of the state.”

Cas didn’t understand; this wasn’t Dean’s fault, and none of it made him a bad person. Yet he looked defeated, unable to meet Cas’s gaze, and a deep sense of foreboding told Cas to remain silent.

“When I turned eighteen, I aged out of the system and took a job with my Dad’s friend Bobby. I kept writing to Sam, and around that time he told me that his foster parents had found out they were having a baby. Some doctor told them Sam was more likely to be an abuser, and they decided they wanted him out. I wanted custody, but when I applied they told me I didn’t make enough. I didn’t want Sam to go to some home like I had. I-I had no choice, Cas.”

Dean scrubbed his hand down his face harshly.

“I started out at clubs. Handjobs in an alley for twenty bucks, shit like that. Then I moved on to working all night at truck stops. It wasn’t long before I overheard some guy complaining that none of the whores liked it rough…that he’d pay good money for a submissive little bitch. And so it started. Bobby gave me his house around that time and I'd bring my clients there. I’d work at Bobby’s during the day, and told social services I took odd jobs on the weekends and in the evening. They believed me, and within a few months I had Sam back. I was making money, Sam was happy, and everything was awesome until I met Zach. He got off on torture, pure and simple. He wanted to make me hurt even more than my regular customers, and he finally went too far. I wound up with a fractured wrist and a black eye. I told Sam I’d been in a fight, and I never saw Zach again. I kept it up, though, being a submissive for hire. Sam won a scholarship to Stanford when I was 23, and I quit the day he left for college. I figured I always liked books, so I took some classes and became a librarian. I bet those parents would lose it if they knew some whore was their kids’ teacher, huh?”

He let out a weak chuckle that turned into a sob and curled in on himself, head in his hands. Cas was stunned, and he stood to cross the room quietly before dropping to his knees in front of the other man.

“Dean,” he placed a hand on Dean’s knee. “Please. Look at me.”

Dean cleared his throat and wiped at his face, then looked down at Cas, eerily devoid of emotion.

“You are incredible,” Cas whispered, reaching to take Dean’s hand. “The things you lived through, everything you did for your brother…how could I be any less than in awe of you?”

“How can you say that? Cas, I don’t even know how many guys I’ve been with. I’ve been fucked on the floor of bathrooms, passed around like a party favor, and I asked for it. _Begged_ for it when they hired me as a submissive. I’m not good enough for someone like you.”

“I don’t think that’s up to you to decide, Dean,” Cas said gently. “I listened to your story and I can tell you in no uncertain terms, how I feel about you hasn’t changed. If it’s alright with you, I would still very much like to be your submissive and your boyfriend.”

“If it’s alright with-,” Dean sputtered, then climbed down into the floor with Cas, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him tightly. “I’ll be so good to you. I swear, I’m going to treat you right.”

“I know you will,” Cas held him just as tightly. “And I’ll do the same for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for:  
> *child abuse/neglect  
> *dubious consent (not Dean/Cas)  
> *past self-harm (referenced)  
> *addiction


End file.
